Purple Cow

When I was 3 years old my mom had to work, so I went to my Grandparents’ house a lot. I think I spent more time there, during the school year than I did at our house. Whenever I was home I liked to play with the neighbor. He and I had so much fun together. He used to think I could read minds. The one time he told me he was hungry for chocolate, then later on he asked me, “You want to know what I could eat?” I replied with the word, “chocolate,” and he was amazed. In the summer, however, I went to my nanny’s house to swim in their pool, and as a bonus got to see my cousins. At my Grandparent’s house, during the school year, I used to play with all their old toys and play-doh. I remember making a farm out of play-doh as I looked out the window to the green, luscious backyard. On my play-doh farm there were chickens that laid pink eggs, and a purple cow. I think my favorite was the farmer. He had overalls and a pitchfork, and for some reason I always liked him. My favorite thing there was when I took all the cushions off the couch and lined them going up the stairs. I would go to the top and get all staticy sliding down the cushions. Building a fort from those cushions was also lots of fun. When I wasn’t building forts we would sometimes cook together or play kickball. I would occasionally help in the garden, and sit in the cherry tree eating the fruit. I always liked the feeling of the dirt from the garden between my toes. I also had to dig through the dirt for worms when Grandpa was going to take us fishing. I always felt more connected with nature when I was there. They live out in the country, and spending all that time there probably sparked my love for nature. I became obsessed with nature, and now prefer country over city life. I also, loved to sleepover at my grandparents’ house, even though I always woke up earlier than I would prefer. My favorite thing was the waffles my Grandma made for breakfast with her home-made black raspberry jelly on top. I always admired how hard-working my Grandparents are. I always tried to avoid work, like the time I hid behind their couch when it came time to wash the dishes. I also remember doing homework there with my sister. She was bugging me the whole time I was trying to work. She then yelled, “Faith, why aren’t you doing your homework?” Grandma then came out and took me into another room because she thought I was the one bothering my sister. It always seemed more peaceful when my sister wasn’t around, but we were a package deal. If my mom needed a babysitter, my sister and I were forced together.

The Hole in Our Wall

I’m a lover, not a fighter. Things get on my nerves, but I can handle it a lot better than some other people. I don’t get mad easily, so when I do, people tend to listen to me. The one time in science class, my friend and I were stuck with two idiot guys, who didn’t do their work. They would do the experiment with us, then ask us what we put down for each answer. We even nicknamed them Dumb and Dumber. They were asking us for answers the one time, while we were saying the answers out loud for them to hear. It drove me to the edge and I yelled at them saying, “Either you shut up and follow along, or you can turn in a blank paper!” They finally shut up and cowardly scooted toward us, to get the answers. The one person, though, that can always annoys me is my sister. It’s not uncommon for siblings to fight, but my sister changed my whole view of older siblings. She always felt the need to pick on me. My mom would say that she’d let me alone if I just didn’t show her that she bothered me. That was nearly impossible advice for me to follow. Our fights ranged from minor physical, to major emotional. Most of the time she wins, with her being older and therefore bigger than I am. She can lift something higher than I am, making me jump to get it. She can also sit on me to make a point, or her specialty at hiding other people's stuff. From as far back as I can remember, she has always taken things and hidden them. Whenever something goes missing, she is my first suspect. She always gives me an evil smirk, even when she didn’t take it. I once saw pictures of us having a tea party when we were little, but that all changed. How could we go, from big sister, looking out for little sister, to her picking on me. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up being that close to someone. You tend to find more faults. The littlest things drive us over the edge. Whether it’s her high pitched whistling, or her loud mouth. Whenever she would be picking on me, I called my mom for backup. Mom would yell at her, but she never stopped. I pleaded for her to leave me alone, but it’s hard being the littlest. My mom didn’t seem to care, until it came to a point where I would nearly cry. I do remember one time, chasing my sister through the house with scissors. My sister was running away from me in heels, and she had trouble making it around the corner in the hall. Her elbow went right through the wall, which made my mom really mad. It’s not like I could fix it, though. I felt really bad, but we grew up, and I learned that running with scissors isn’t as dangerous as mom getting mad about something.

Family Glue

My dad helped make me into the geek that I am today. He was never really sporty, so video games was the way we bonded. We would always play the PlayStation 2, so that remains my favorite gaming system. He never cared about what we played, so as a little kid I played games with ratings telling him that I shouldn’t be playing. It didn’t matter; I loved playing them with my dad. I also loved to go on drives with my dad. He is a complete maniac on the road, but it was fun as a kid. My favorite was when we’d drive around with the top off his jeep blaring music. He’d always be singing the wrong words, as I tried to hold my hair out of my face. In truth, my mom cares for us, and is a parent a hundred times better than my dad. I think I’m more like my mom, and I’m okay with that. It has its flaws, but at least I don’t drive recklessly. I’m also having trouble picking out a career. My mom helps me stick to reality; she cares for me and just doesn’t want me to struggle too much. Music also plays a role in my family. My dad got me into country music, but my mom got me into music of the 80s. I’ll be listening to the radio, and an 80s song comes on, and I feel the need to guess the artist. My friends never know the songs, but I listen to them in my spare time. In my circle of friends I seem to be the only one who realizes what great music there was at that time. I’m also a fan of music that’s older. I just have a style in music that seems unique to everyone else I know. My mom is always the one thinking of my sister and I before she does anything. She is put under way too much stress. She is the glue that holds this family together. She doesn’t receive nearly as much appreciation as she deserves. My dad had to move up to New York for work, and it’s been real tough for all of us. She deals with all our stresses. If we’re dealing with money issues she has to worry about that, and us with our stressful school work. She drives us nearly everywhere too. My dad is a care-free parent, which puts even more stress on my mom. It’s nice when I get to see my dad, but after a little while, we all get sick of him. He’s so annoying, and feels a need to wake us up in the morning. I’m not sure if life was simpler when I was little, or I was just too naive to understand how complicated life is. Growing up really stinks, when I think about it. Maybe I should fly to Neverland, all it takes is a little bit of faith, trust, and pixie dust.

Shooting a Tent

With all the stresses life brings, it’s nice to have holidays. Holidays can be stressful, but look on the bright side; no school. My two favorite holidays are Halloween and the 4th of July. I know they’re not the typical favorite holidays, but I love them. The other holidays have their wonders. I like all the time off we get for Christmas, but I’m not a fan of the barren trees during winter. New Years, and Valentines are likewise cold, dry, and bland. I really think that my favorite season is fall. The leaves are divine, and the temperature is just right. I love the look of all things fall; jeans, corn mazes, pumpkins, apples, and the golden sun. The sun always seems yellow, through the year, but in fall, it casts golden rays down to bless the crops. Fall also has a certain smell to it that I can’t help but love. A close second season is summer. No school, swimming, staying up late and sleeping in. I always loved doing the doggy paddle through the water, even though I swim more like a frog. I was in the water from such a young age that I can’t even remember learning. It almost seems like I could always swim. My nanny used to call me her mermaid. I also enjoy night swimming, when I can. On the 4th of July we would always have a couple day picnic/camp out. My family would always be the first to pitch our tent in Nanny’s yard. All my family would be there, and would play all sorts of different games, my favorite being flashlight tag. We would play king of the raft, and have water balloon fights. Now our games consist of card games and my family’s weird obsession with corn hole, the game with the bean bags. We used to set off fireworks, but we can’t really afford them anymore. Plus the one firework tipped over and shot one of the tents. Luckily no one was in that direction at the time, and the tent was just seared, a bit. During Halloween we used to get family at our door for candy, but now no one comes. My sister used to run out the back door to scare them. I like to sit at home on Halloween night and watch movies. I turn on this fake fire burning in the cauldron. Even the years where I don’t have time to watch them, I still watch the Disney version of Sleepy Hollow. I think Bing Crosby narrates it, and it’s my favorite. I don’t watch scary movies like some might think. I just don’t like a movie where its soul purpose is to scare someone. I also remember decorating for Halloween. We didn’t do much, but my favorite part was putting the window stickies on our bay window. I can’t find the time to do that anymore, but at least I had those memories. Memories are such a wonderful thing. They makes us who we are, and even the bad memories can have a silver lining. When I look back at my life, I always try to take the bad memories and remember something good about them, or something good that came from them.