January 12, 2010
By Anonymous

“Wake up Chris, it’s time to go buy you some new shoes for summer vacation,” said my mom. I made a slight groaning sound that made it look as if I was sick in the stomach. My intelligent mom, knowing that I was going to go back to sleep, carried me out of bed and washed my frowning face for me. I stood there with an expression every child would have when their beautiful sleep was interrupted. I walked into the bathroom with my colorful pajamas still on. I picked up my red toothbrush and pasted blue cream onto it. As I was diligently brushing my teeth, my eldest brother with the same expression that I had when I first woke up, walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth as well.

I spit out the blue colored cream, and rinsed my mouth with clean water and asked with an attitude , “Mom, do I have to change my clothes?”
“No you don’t Chris, just come and have some breakfast with me,” said my mom. Those were the days, when I didn’t care about what I wore whenever I went out. I walked down to my beige colored dining room and sat next to my patient mom, who had everything prepared at the table for me already. As I was quite short at the time, my mom had to pick me up and put me into a colorful booster chair. I miss those colorful booster chairs that made you look taller than you really were. I had some breakfast with my mom and brothers.

“Is everyone ready yet?” asked my mom. “We’re ready!” said my brothers. I did not answer because I was still cranky that I was woken up early in the morning. My mom knew that I was cranky, but did not do anything. Everyone went outside to the van.

We climbed into a dark green van on the way Wal-Mart. Other cars rushed past us, and some cars were as slow as snails. Looking outside the window of the car, I saw lush green trees and grass swaying in the wind. It looked as if the grass was dancing. The cars came to a screeching stop at a red light. The road was dusty due to the construction at the nearby building foundation. When we got there, the parking lot was packed with cars like the mall on Christmas weekend. When my mom finally found a spot, it took about fifteen minutes.
When I climbed out of the car, the heat was scorching hot. The sun beat down on my pale skin. I just wanted to find shade as soon as possible. I held my mom’s hand, but she pushed my hands off hers. I knew I had done something wrong.

Walking into the cool shade, the wind blew from the air conditioning on the roof of the building. The feeling was like no other. There were so many different things at Wal-Mart. My mom and brothers and I walked to the shoe section. I trudged my feet as if I had balls of iron chained to my feet. There weren’t many selections for shoes at Wal-Mart.
When we got to the section, my mom told me that she was going to buy sandals for me. She forgot to tell me at home apparently. I was happy to get anything new at this point. I tried on a pair of brown sandals. “Those fit me really well,” I told my mom. Since my mom was sick of my attitude, she didn’t reply. My mom just picked up the pair of sandals and proceeded to the check-out counter. Many people were waiting in line. After a while, we finally got to the counter! My mom paid with some weird green paper.
When I walked out to the car, the sun was as hot as it had been when I had first experienced it. The car had accumulated so much heat from the sun. It felt like I was being baked alive. As I was sweating, I pondered why my mom was not replying to me. I figured out that it was because of my attitude. I told my mom that I was sorry. My mom still didn’t reply. I didn’t know what else I was to do but say sorry.

When we got home, I hugged my mom and saw a glimpse of a smile on her face. I told her I had learned my lesson. She forgave me and told me to remember what I said. She told me to go outside so she could take a picture of me and my new sandals. I wore them everywhere I went.

The author's comments:
My mini-narrative had one major weakness. It was the first paper that I had written for a grade in that class. I had no idea how the teacher was going to grade. The strength of my paper was not very high. The one strength point of my paper was the setting. It let me implant imagery into my narrative to make it more interesting and colorful. It was the hardest paper because I was never taught in my middle school to put imagery in papers. It was all to new to me, so the grade that I got wasn’t really what I had hoped for.

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