Granite

January 29, 2010
By , marion, MA
It was as if a kindergarten teacher had instructed the class to draw a circle but instead they drew misshaped ovals. Chunks of blue and green speckled with white complimented the pure white wooden cabinets. This was the island, the center of the kitchen, which was the center of the house. It was in fact the most beautiful island of granite I have ever seen. Two sets of running feet hit the hard wood floor. With each step heat ventured onto our feet but then quickly dissipated. Our hands caressed the rounded edge of the counter to stable ourselves. We stopped after our lungs were tired and out laughter slowed us down. There was no reason for it, but we did this routinely. At this point we had no care in the world where our parents were or who was watching the house for them.
I should’ve cared a little bit more. I took it all for granted; the heated floors, my own bathroom, the gym, the indoor pool, the perfect place to get away, the sunrise, the dock, and that damn granite Island. Only in an ideal world would these things still be in my life. Only in an ideal world.





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