Essay on His Flower 7 Years Ago

I lugged my bags up to my room and collapsed onto the bed. It was on the second floor of the house and the window looked out over the backyard that was shadowed by the surrounding forest. The floor was covered in light grey carpet and the wall painted a plain off white. A dark, wooden bed took up most of the room, pale fairy lights haphazardly thrown along the headboard. Two matching bedside tables sat on either side of the bed and an empty desk sat opposite it.

After a little while, Charmaine finally gathered up the courage to ask her mom, “Why are we packing our stuff?”

“It’s not fair,” I huffed, “I don’t want to leave! This is my home!” My mother’s brown eyes stared back at me, filled with a knowledge and understanding I had yet to possess and would lack for years to come. She left the barren living room, leaving behind a trace of the fruity perfume she always wore. It was futile to argue; the boxes were packed and ready to be loaded onto the trucks in a few hours. Having nowhere else to sit, I descended to the floor. The light oak wooden floorboards that used to be clothed in rugs were now naked. In the next month, new pairs of feet would walk on these boards.

In the novel Flowers for Algernon, by Daniel Keyes, Charlie, a mentally disabled adult, has brain surgery to increase intelligence.The scientists do not have a right to surgically change his brain.Rather than think about/believe Charlie's quality of life, the scientists think about/believe their own fame.Ultimately, with the death of Algernon and Charlie's research, the operation did not yield success.

The inside of the house was way better than the outside but it seem boring inside. It took me forever to find my room. My room had a window that i can open and go onto the roof, it is very big in size. Mom and Dad finally came in the house after they had a talk with our landlord. I knew that as soon as we got here my hands are going to hurt because of carrying boxes in, unloading the boxes , and then putting them away.

"I won't," I groaned and after I was dressed I ran my fingers through my hair and raced down the stairs into the kitchen.

She was late to her friend’s house. Her mind became so easily distracted by the mix of bright colors on the small, portable, handheld device. Jolted back to the reality of what little time was allotted for packing; she took purposeful grabs containing bare necessities for the night with the clock still ticking away behind her. One by one, Della dropped items into her black and white, polka dotted, drawstring bag. And then out the door- like a dazed New Yorker rushing through the station to get to the departing subway-- she left her modern yet plain house, only saying goodbye to her mother. Her father hadn’t lived there for years.

I stuck my tongue out at him and he moved to open the door. As soon as it was unlocked, I went inside. There it was. Perfect home for the perfect family. I sighed and made my way up the stairs, hoping to find my room quickly. I hated being around those freaks.

Far off in a meadow, on a warm day in May, a very special, little cottontail was born. One look at him and his mother, Blossom, knew right away, that he was extra special. Even though she thought him perfect in every way. He didn't look like any of the cottontails she had ever seen before.

“Mom! Come on. We’re gonna be late!” Anxiously, I sprint upstairs to see what is taking so long.

"Hurry!" I told myself as I run the house, preparing myself to leave. "You're going to be late again! The train's going to be packed, and you would have to wait a long line outside!" I grabbed my bag and some food, and headed to the gate. I yelled a quick "bye" to my mom before closing the gate.

After I get home and get situated I go upstairs to ask my mom about tomorrow’s schedule. I enter her room and see her packing.

“What are you doing just standing there? Get dressed, then pack food and water!” my mom’s stark voice startled me out of my stupor. She sounded panicked and afraid.

My day started like every other day. Laying in bed and unwinding until you have the energy to actually get out of bed and be productive. Except, it really wasn’t. It was August of 2014, beginning of the school year. I had lived on a street called Larsen Lane nearly all of my life, and had gone to the same school all my life, too. We should’ve been getting ready for school, but our parents decided we should take the day off. This kind of unwinding was different because my brother and I had slept on just mattresses; our bed frames had already been packed. Our room was just plain. The blue walls had stayed here ever since we had got them painted years ago, but that was it. The stickers we collected on our sliding glass doors to our closet were all taken off. I laid there, bland and lifeless, on the verge of tears even, thinking about the choice that could set me up for middle school. Our mom settled herself in bed with us, comforting us so we would couldn’t get too overwhelmed by the emotions of leaving behind our old life.

Flowers have been the symbol of beauty, love, admiration and many other emotions. Since their birth on earth, they have been revered for their aromas, hues, shapes, charm, and also as a source of food. While the nature has gifted humankind with different flowers, scientific research have added more varieties to them. Because of which, their significance and importance kept changing and growing with the passage of time. But what hasn't changed since the old times are their reverence and use in different events. Here, we are going to see 5 different flowers with their importance and meaning for events.