My Best Friend is Dead Essay

There were several sharp, bright exterior images of the ranch home. It had a covered porch and a huge front yard, and a big backyard with a shade tree, and an extra-large deck, and storage sheds, all surrounded by mature trees.

wooden front porch, with roof, and entry through the front door that led to a front hall.

I pull up and rush inside. Would this be the last time I see my best friend of 10 years? The room is cold, plain, and white from the floor to the ceilings. A tall and slender man in scrubs walks in and says that he would be brought into the room to see us in just a few minutes. The man also explains how he would be dazed, due to the anesthesia from the surgery he had just undergone. The surgery revealed that my best friend named Jack had cancer, and that he was too old to undergo chemo. They bring him in, his glassy eyes look at me and his furry tail wags. He is extremely underweight and his ribs show from under his thick black and white coat. He seems happy for the first time in months. I later realize this is because it is the first time he had not been in pain in so long. I say my goodbyes and rush out of the vet, tears streaming down my face. We were not just losing a pet, but a family member.

After two long hours of traveling with nothing to look at but the passing trees, we finally arrived at the farm. As we piled out of the car, I looked at the dirt road we came in on and turned to the house. It was one story and had a red tin roof, surrounded by a large grassy field and then woods beyond that. Twirling around, I walked into the house and plopped onto the closes bed. As everyone else unpacked, I locked myself in the room like a petulant child.

There were sharp exterior images that showed an attractive country home with a welcoming covered porch, a one car attached garage, and a big front yard. The good-sized backyard had two level decks and many trees.

Earl turned onto Main Street of his new home, Lyme Connecticut and was immediately struck with a child-like sense of wonder. The cobblestone road was lined with white shops packed side to side; everything from toys to mannequins stare back at him from the windows. As he, his mother, and his father continued down the road, a beautiful shimmering bay could be seen from the distance, the August sun reflecting brilliantly off the ocean water, seemingly calling for him to jump in. They continued, taking many turns and different road for about 15 minutes until they arrived at their new home in a small neighborhood of about 20 houses. Earl exited the car and took his suit case out of his family's black hatchback Volvo and walked towards the house,

Making her way toward the sidewalk, she turned right on Doveland Drive. Without a car, Anita must walk two and a half miles to reach Forest Creek Lane, the predominantly upper-class part of town. As she walked, her stomach turned as if she had ridden a fast carnival ride and no matter what she tried to calm her nerves, her attempts were futile. When she reached the street, she couldn't help but stare in awe at the beautiful houses that lined it. Some had the latest car park in front, others had empty spaces while the owner was at work. Anita imagined handsome doctors carrying briefcases and housewives wearing wearing the latest fashions. Anita, at 22, still lived with her parents in the not-so-nice part of town, where houses where becoming dalapitated and the roads and sidewalks were cracked and never fixed. Always feeling as if she didn't belong where she lived, she often imagianed what it would be like to live as other

Ever since I was born, I always lived on Chapell Hill Road. I lived on a quiet road, embraced by trees. My house sat on a large property. In the front, there was wide open space to play. However, woods consumed the backyard. I shared a room with my twin brother, Dominick. My brother Anthony had his own room to himself.

These houses were nothing like the house we normally see. They had an extra flare to them one had a well keep pond with very exotic fish in the font of it with a huge driveway with cobblestone brick of red, brown and tan colors. Another had a glass front were you could see a huge spiral staircase with marble steps and brass rail. These two stood out as the highlight of the neighborhood, but I’m sure if I has ridden through more of the neighborhood there would have been more to marvel

There were fruit trees and big back yard and front yard too. We were excited to move into it.

Until today, I remembered my visits to Mrs. Burnage's house fondly. The neighborhood I lived in was small, with only ten houses on the whole street. Each house was placed far apart with everyone having at least three acres of property. Our house was at one end of the road, and Mrs. Burnage's was at the other.

It is amazing how many things we take for granted. We make plans for the day, and don't think twice about how those plans can be taken away in the blink of an eye. I never thought much about it myself, until I was faced with the shock, and undeniable truth of my cousin's death. I don't think anyone really thinks about tragedy until they are actually faced with shocking news.

There was once a little boy named Chase. He was a wonderful little boy, he had blonde hair and blue eyes. He always liked to go on adventures with his mom. They would go to the malls and on the buses. They would go to museums and libraries.

Have you ever had someone in your life who helped you figure out who you were? Someone who showed you the right path. Someone who was there right next you even if you did not take that path. Someone who always seemed to be right, but never held it against you when you were not. Someone whom without your life would most likely be entirely different. I have. Her name was Jessica.

The welcome arch spanned the two lanes and looked sturdy enough to drive a tank across. The rest of Church Street proceeds a half-a-mile or so from the sign to James Street and the middle of the village. This street and many of the adjoining side streets conjured up images of a quaint New England town with a profusion of oaks and maples surrounding well kept, two story, wooden-framed houses. The Village maintained a strip of grass between the curb and the sidewalks that run parallel to the street on both sides. The areas close to the houses typically displayed neatly trimmed scrubs and flowers.