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Chunks of Stuff

By , North Collins, NY

Every family has some sort of tradition whether it comes from culture or ones you made up yourself. Traditions like having dinner together every night, always having turkey on Thanksgiving day, or something simple like having a secret handshake with your friend every time you see them. Traditions are fun and cool. This one winter in specific was the time I made a tradition. So I was approximately 12 years old and I was signed up to play Little Cagers basketball in Eden. My dad called from downstairs in a worried voice “Hurry up Isabelle, You’re going to be late for your game!”. I looked at myself one more time in the mirror. That ugly yellow shirt color made me want to puke. I shrugged my shoulders and I rushed downstairs, threw on boots and a jacket and grabbed my sneakers. My house is about 5 minutes from Eden’s Middle school. This moment in my life is probably the only memory from little cagers that I remember. Except for how none of the boys on my team would pass to me. So we jumped into the van and got on our way. There is this one bridge when you go into Eden and there is a railing on the right hand side. My dad and I had on 97 rock blasting tunes almost as if we were going to blow our ear drums right out of their sockets. Next thing we know, someone is pulled over to the side of the road by the railing and then a person throws up on the side of the road. A mixture of green and yellow chunks of food spurt out and it was super nasty. I just remember how right after he drove by, the music when silent and we both looked at each other with widened eyes and I said “Well, what a great way to start the day”. Till this day, every time we pass that part, we scream, “THROW UP!”




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