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Personal Narrative Essay: The Dry Woods Of Washington Island

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At only four years old, I was exploring the dense woods of the Washington island in which I grew up on. I was with my older sister and cousin when we found ourselves trekking through a yellow-jacket hive. We raced back home, covered in bees from head to toe, screaming painful cries for our parents. As we started approaching the house, our parents began to run towards us, stripping off our clothes while spraying us down with a garden hose. Growing up on an island has many perks, however emergency medical care is not one of them. The adults quickly loaded us into the car to race toward the only doctor's office on the island. The next closest was by sea plane or a two hour ferry ride to the mainland. While en route, I vividly recall sitting on

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