My Life - Original Writing

Decent Essays

My heart is pounding in my chest as I step onto the dusty gym floor. My palms are damp with perspiration. I slowly look around the room. Girls wearing headbands, shorts, and t-shirts fill the gym. Some girls wear the same nervous expression I do, and some have a look of confidence on their face. The sound of girls handling basketballs fills the gym. I walk over to the rack hesitantly and slowly reach out and grasp a basketball. The bumpy texture of the ball in my hand is familiar, and provides a sense of comfort. I look over at my sister and we head over to an empty basketball hoop. We start to shoot around, preparing for the tryouts that are moments away from starting.

Go back a couple months and school has just gotten out on May 24, 2014. It was the end of my years in middle school. I could finally relax without the stress of homework or tests. It was now nine o 'clock at night. My mom entered the room. The living room floor squeaked with every step she took toward me, showing signs of its old age. The moon helps in casting my mom’s long shadow on the living room floor. She comes into the room with an intimidating presence. She is a woman who isn’t afraid to speak her mind.

“I can’t believe my girls are in high school now,” she said. I glanced at my sister, trying to tell her not to respond. I knew if we responded my mom would reminisce on the days when my sister, Shiloh, and I were younger.

“You’re going to tryout for basketball, right?,” she inquired.

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