Serenity of the Field Essay

It had finally arrived. Moving day. I was finally leaving my home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania after five short years and a sort of gloom lingered in the air. Although many teenagers would be excited to reunite with their family, friends, and childhood home, I, however, was frightened of the future. I woke up that morning and just laid there and listened to the sound of the rain pittering against the roof and windows, pattering against the surrounding forest in which I shared many memories. After what felt like centuries of just listening and reflecting, I got up and looked out the window. I looked at my neighbor's house across the field of grass which separated our houses and at the kids who had become like my siblings. I looked at the ice

In one's life, for many, the place means everything. In the novel Blank by Trina St Jean, a young teen looses her memory after an upsetting accident and spends the novel trying to figure out what happened. Jessica's life is set in her family farm and surrounding forest. Setting is crucial to her story because of her love for nature, her accident, and her runaway plan. To begin, Jessica’s family farm is the perfect place for a nature lover like Jessica, it could be that living on the farm made her develop her love, or that is grew over time. Nonetheless, the farm is a crucial setting to the story: “After taking the first photo it starts to come back to me. Not a memory, but a feeling. Like I’ve done this before” (St. Jean 189). Here it is seen

Driving down Arizona Boulevard, I was going to my house. Passing through all the main businesses and stores, something came to my mind. It was memories, memories of my 17 years here in Coolidge. You see, I have always pictured myself leaving and moving as soon as I graduated and turned 18. Leaving my small comfort zone to go live in a big city somewhere. For a period of time, I honestly didn’t even want to say where I was from because I didn’t want it to define me. As I kept on driving, thinking about this, I realized I was actually being really closed minded. It was on that day, driving through all of my familiarities, where I changed my mindset. It was when I, in fact, left Coolidge, that I started to appreciate what it’s done for me and how it shaped me into whom I grew up to be.

Being in the home was like a separate world, one between life and death. When I reached the outside world again everything seemed so fresh. There were bright yellow-green leaves that hung with an arrogant vivacity, cars that sped by with such fervor, wind blowing with verve and energy, lively children playing with a vivacious lust for life, and the vitality that exudes from the air into your lungs. I wanted to bring this energy into

Everybody has a special place that means so much to them every time the set foot there. My special place just so happens to be a baseball field. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a particular field, it’s just that every time I set foot on one I think of all the memories made when playing the game and of all the friends I have made because of it. I have been playing baseball for practically my entire life and along the way have learned a lot of life lessons because of it. A few fields that specifically stand out to me are Cooperstown Dreams Park and Wenatchee Valley College baseball field.

Tranquil gusts kissed my skin; the sweet sensation of a breeze and the rustle of the trees’ leaves sung me a lullaby. As I lie, back to my trampoline and limbs sprawled, my mind would undergo a sort of cleansing, ridding me of my troubles. My home held my childhood; it possessed memories that had accumulated from day one, intertwining and condensing them to forge a place that would bear peace and serenity. I never contemplated departure, even when it was apparent my parents sought for a better place to reside, for no place could replace my home. Alas, my assumptions were proven to be erroneous.

The car suddenly stopped and jolted me from my sleep. Disoriented, I looked around and tried to make sense of where I was and what I was doing. Over to my left, I saw my sister doing the same. Tall, blue, connected houses surrounded us and we were parked in the middle of a pristine parking lot. Green, luscious lawns sat in front of those blue houses. A gigantic tree surrounded by beautiful multicolored flowers sat to the left of a dumpster and a wooden sign with white script on it. “The Pointe at Stoneview,” I read to myself.

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

The alluring Mead Valley; where there’s roadkill on every main road, starving dogs on your trail, and The Red Store where the whole town is acquainted with one another. Having a large family in a small house is not an uncommon occurrence, and with this sizable household, it’s evident that my mind and persona was shaped by many from a young age. My mom always advised me to be appreciative of the situation I was born into, because in the real world, when deprivation in any form struck me down, I would have the resources to get back up and labor through the rigorous times. I was disciplined through trial and error parenting. Instead of putting a stop to my mistakes completely, I was given the privilege to make my own decisions and learn from them,

We say we can’t wait to get out of here and leave this small nose budding town but years from now these are the times we’re going to look back on and the way it has shaped me into who I am today has made the biggest impact on my life. Growing up never having an empty house, always knowing someone has got your back, and the support everyone shows is not something you get to experience in other places like big cities. The town may of not had much to do but that’s when it taught us that everyone needs to learn to live a little and quit hiding behind screens all day. Now as I start to come to the end of my high school education I am ready to go explore the real world and use everything this town has taught me to try and make it a better place. My life experiences and story have prepared me for the bigger and better things in life and as I prepare to move on I can’t wait to see where they take

“Can we talk about moving to Minnesota?”, my father would ask. “I don’t want to, ” I’d always responded. This lasted for four years, my father always looking towards the future, my future, but never willing to press me towards the opportunities he saw. I had friends, an expansive yard where I could play, take pictures, observe the wildlife, a quaint home in a quaint neighborhood attending a quaint school in northern Mississippi, and each time the question came up, a feeling of fear welled up as I thought about how different it would all be, really the complete opposite: a rural home to a suburban apartment, a school with fewer than a thousand students for grades K-12 to one quadruple the size, a world with friends, one without. Eventually, after my eighth grade year, I let in to my father and allowed logic to clear the emotions that

We park at the same man’s house every year. His house is right behind the mini-donut stand on midway parkway, across the street from the main gate. As we pull into his driveway, I feel a pang of excitement run through me, and when I get out, I can smell it. The smell is familiar, distinctive. When the telltale aroma wafts into my nostrils, I remember why come to this thing every year. We walk over to

observed and Serenity was observed to be free of any suspicious marks or bruises. CPS stated that Jeremiah had a scratch on his back, but it did not look like an impression from a belt buckle. CPS indicated that Jeremiah is articulated, but he refused to talk to her during the visit. CPS uttered that Serenity acknowledge being “pop” with a belt by the alleged subject when she misbehaved. CPS voiced that a family team conference was held yesterday to address the issues reported on the narrative. IRTC informed CPS that Jeremiah should be medically assessed for the observed injury and IRTC or an IRTC at ECS (after hours) should be contacted if there is any suspicion pertaining its

I would have never thought that I would grow up to love the country life. I went from growing up in a big, busy, and hectic city, to a small, slow-paced, and simple town. I was so used to having neighbors, and walking and biking on a side-walk. Now I live on a gravel road with almost no neighbors. A change in environment really influences a person's personality. I now love the silence and hearing the birds chirp and coyete’s howl. The corn fields go on for miles and the sunsets are breathtaking.

A ways away from a town that I call home, I found a happy place. I often find myself walking through the park by myself. The beautiful trees, the way the yellow and red leaves crumple under my feet every step I take. When the flowers bloom and how it's the most spectacular sight you could ever imagine seeing, all the different colors that appear. When you breathe in and you get this smell of purity, you feel free and alive. Sometimes I like to sit on the old wooden bench where the bench frame is a little rusted, and I get rid of my thoughts and my eyes search the sky. In the winter the icy breeze makes me shiver, and the cold air I take in, is like sitting in front of an air conditioner and breathing in. Some mornings the sun beams across the sky, which is not quite blue yet, but the sun has almost fully risen. When the wind blows, it grazes over the blades of grass. Some days I just stand and take a deep breath in and I can taste the spring. When summer comes around, and the bees are buzzing, and the hot sun beats on the back of my neck, I lay on the soft grass and listen, to the birds chirping a beautiful song, and the kids playing in the park. The sky is the bluest view in sight.