Personal Narrative: Elder Doty

It was a dry summer afternoon before the arrival of fall, and the beginning of a new school year in the northwest suburbs of Chicago. That afternoon few of my friends from Chicago named Marshall, Kevin, Connor and I had been planning to head over to Marshall’s house after school. As the bell sounded at 2:20pm we ran quickly to our lockers, and made it to the buses. All four of us met at Marshall’s house which was tucked in behind the forest preserve along a private road off Quentin road. The conditions were just right for riding around on our dirt bikes and go-karts although at the time 85 degrees was quite warm to us Chicagoans at the end September.

I wrap my scarf around my neck and reach down to lace up my boots. Careful not to drop my cross body bag as it swings down, I stand up straight and walk out the door. As I lock the front door behind me, I inhale a deep breath. This is my favorite time of year. The air is brisk, yet the sun is warm on my skin. I begin my walk to work since my car officially died yesterday. This is the third time this month, but I don’t really mind. I love walking when the weather is like this. The sounds of leaves crunching beneath my feet sounds like music.

As the light of the sun began to weaken, my thoughts began to disperse. The grey clouds of a storm blew in from the horizon. It began to rain big fat drops that fell so slowly I could count them. It was a cool rain, but the air was still warm. I watched people grabbing their things and jogging off the beach. Even my dad who was devoted to his fishing had begun to pack up his rods and bait.

“I’m still cold” ““I’m kinda hungry” “We should go somewhere else” They all seemed to say at once. One of us suggested going into the church which we all agreed on then eventually got it up and went. Whoever suggested it was smart because walking into the church was like feeling the sun after being locked in a freezer for years. We all sat in these chairs that were at the front entrance of the church. I looked around observingly and noticed every detail in that room. It was my first time in a church and I treated it as a job to remember everything about that room. The chairs we were sitting in were in the front room of the church to the right. To the left were bathrooms and there was so much red. I had never seen so much red in one room. The carpet was red the cushioning on the chair was red. I stood up while everyone else sat around talking about where to go next. There was a table in the room behind some chairs that held business cards and pamphlets. I read the names of the people in my head and tried to determine the relationships of the people in the picture. Dylan walked up to me and stood there with me without saying a word. He seemed to be analyzing the pamphlets

Sitting on the shore of the beach in the morning purity, a memory was faced. One that was unfamiliar but petrifying. An erratic emotion triggered repercussions of shock which rapidly flowed through my body, resulting gushing tears down my face. My chin lifted in the direction of the sky, slowly ceasing my eyes tight. The acceptance of those traumatic experiences was yet to occur. The rate of my breath calmed as my eyes fluttered easily against the warm wind. My toes wriggled slowly and at ease against the soft white sand, a sensational feeling. The air was moist, however astonishing. Adjusting my position, I placed the mug of flushed water close to my upper half as the essential heat directly transferred towards me. Clear as crystal, the sky

The cold rain fell down on my body as I involuntarily shiver from the cold wet feeling on my skin. I look around to find myself surrounded by puddles of water and no way out. My breath was visible through the air. I was one of the best days to run in as well as the worst. It was another exciting day at track.

Adjusting my midnight blue tie, I hurried down the sidewalk to St. John’s Baptist Church. Sunday morning, and I was barely awake, the thick fog blurring my vision. If you haven’t already guessed, I’m the enterprising young fellow that springs out of bed at five o’clock every weekend to ring the church bells, waking up my dead and dying little town. This Sunday was muggy as usual, the sun never showing up to greet me. Skipping up the cement steps, I took hold of the clammy oakwood door to let myself in.

3:00 P.M., the frigid rain darted down similar to ice shards and I could hear the merciless howl of the wind. Every step soaked my shoes as I walked down the flooded brick road, I felt myself beginning to drag my feet through the icy water. In spite of the weather, today is quite a memorial day, my war acquaintance back approximately 40 years ago has died peacefully in his deathbed, even the weather reflects the atmosphere flawlessly. 15 minutes till the funeral starts, I began to sprint and on every step a splash of water shot up, soaking my pants.

The air was sharp and chilly when he stepped outside, just as he expected it to be in November. He had outgrown his jacket from last year and his father had told him that he couldn't afford another one, so to make up for it Cody wore not one, but two hoodies over top of his only winter sweater. He was uncomfortable and his arms felt stiff, but at least he didn't feel much of the cold.

“Beep, Beep, Beep!” That stupid phone just wouldn’t stop nagging me! I rubbed my eyes as I rolled over to turn off the alarm. “Whoa, okay. This is it, my thoughts carried on; I told Marissa I would go to church today. Hmm, do I really want to? I could just lie here in bed and go back to bed. But then what would I do with my day? What excuse would I have for my friend for bailing out of going to church with her, yet again? Yawning, I pulled myself up as I gathered my clean clothes and grabbed a clean towel to go take a shower. A little while later, I felt the warmth of the sunshine on my arms as I walked the four-block walk over to this new, unfamiliar place, full of people who called themselves New Fellowship Christian Church. As I looked towards the front, I thought,

“What have I gotten myself into?” I thought to myself as I checked the weather forecast early one summer morning. The heat index for the day was 114 degrees, and I was still sore from working the day before. Nevertheless, I slipped on my boots and made the drive out to the farm on Old Salisbury Road.

The trees willowed above the campers like fast moving water in a rapid. I consumed the words of the gospel as they flashed across the screen faster than Usain Bolt in his 100-meter dash, the calming sound of the strumming guitar as it fills the room. I feel the crisp pages of my song book grace my fingers as I open it to the first song. A dimly lit campfire glows against the campers’ faces as they harmonize together in song. As we got done singing we joined hands in prayer. I feel the slightly moist hands of my counselors and friends as we came together. I could smell the aroma of the fan favorite poppy seed chicken in the dining hall. The smell of the food overpowered the smell of the campfire smoke. After prayer, we rushed to the dining hall

As the glistening rays of the sun reflects its aureate light on the fresh coat of snow, a different breed of winter lovers awake. The smell of bacon sizzling on an iron skillet masks the air awaking all throughout the small cabin. As we gather around the old wooden table, smiles inform each other about what is about to happen. As we all bundle up for the frigid temperatures of the north, no one is afraid to suffer in the colder temps to look better than the others. The stiff molded boots form around my soft, delicate feet providing protection from any injury that may occur. In the act of zipping up our jackets, a feeling of excitement stimulates the atmosphere.

As I peeked out of the vestibule, I grabbed my hat from my bag and pulled it down low over my ears. Then, I put my gloves back on and ventured into the wind. I stepped into the freezing February streets of New York, hoping I would make it back to my cozy apartment, which was a 20- minute walk away.

The sun wrapped my body in its warm blanket. It extended its radiant arms to the surface, illuminating my surroundings. The slight breeze flowed through my hair and encompassed my entire figure in order to reverse the toasty effects of that ball of heat from above. The wind and our star worked together in harmony without overpowering one another, helping to establish comfort. Finally, the weather was perfect – ideal temperatures and beautiful, clear skies. With a sunny and cool day, it was a relief that Athens was not cursed with scorching temperatures or with an incessant downpour of spontaneous rain. I wished I could turn back time and pause this moment in order to immerse myself in nature’s scenic beauty. However, I