Summary Of ' Wood Polish ' By Kristen

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2006 1st-Place Winning Essay
"Wood Polish" by Kristen
I never go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Ever. I can sleep through anything. I don 't know why I did that night.
Passing to the bathroom, I stopped on the landing that faces the first floor. My mother was sobbing, which was no surprise. She 's never been quiet or easy to hide.
When she lived with us, I never had a friend inside the house. Not once. It was filled with piles of trash. We put the Christmas tree up on a pile of trash, if it went up at all. After she left, my dad took 64 large trash bags out of the house from her room alone. I don 't even know what the stuff was. None of it was mine. I would let my room get really messy, just like the rest of the house, but then I 'd go on a cleaning spree. I 'd use wood polish on everything, including the windows, because I thought it smelled like home where a mother lived. And then I 'd shut my door, sit on my bed and gorge on my domestic cleanliness. I 'd bloat myself with it and blur my vision as I passed through the rest of the house.
I was in this state when I got to the kitchen. The crying was louder, so I knew I was in the right place. I unblurred my eyes a little and saw little white dots all over the counter and in the sink. Focus, focus. They were pills. Prescription medication from my father 's back surgery and some others I didn 't recognize. She was on the floor, in a heap, her obese limbs tangled in themselves, helpless. The phone was off the hook.

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