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The Car

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Tossing and turning in my bed, awakened a few times now by bad dreams of getting lost in the city, I roll over and cautiously try to open my eyes just enough to see the time on my blinking pink, purple, yellow, green, and blue clock. It reads 2:26. I let out a grunt of frustration as I roll back over, grasp my covers, and pull them up over my shoulders. My beagle is curled up next to me, sound asleep. Now that my eyes have somewhat adjusted to the darkness I look at his dark shadow lying next to me. As I listen to him gently snoring and dreaming, I wonder if he even realizes I’m leaving in a few short hours. We are like best friends. We go everywhere together. What will he do when I’m gone? After a few minutes of reminiscing on stories my mom has told me about the dog pacing all night waiting for me to come home from sleepovers, I remember the time on the clock. I have a long day ahead of me and I know I need to stop my racing mind and get some rest.
What seems like ten minutes later I am awakened again. This time to my dad’s voice. He makes sure I know that it is 6:00 and there are orange rolls down stairs in the oven for me. As I roll over I discover there is no warm puppy next to me to curl up with. I do not have to think for more than a second where he is. Slowly, I get myself out of my bed. I put on my Victoria Secret purple polka dotted slippers that match my pajamas. My dad and brothers constantly tease my mom and I for spending so much money on our cute and fancy pajamas. They say it’s a waste, but to me their videogames and power tools are a waste. When I get to my bedroom doorway my younger brother plows past me, and darts down the stairs. He has some kind of toy truck or car in his hand. He moves so quickly down around the corner I cannot make out exactly what it is, not that I truly care anyway. As I go down the stairs and past the steamy bathroom where my mom has just gotten out of the shower, the warm air reminds me of my warm bed. I am tempted to walk right back up to my room to try to steal another ten minutes of sleep. The aromas from the kitchen make me hesitate and mentally fight with myself whether to go back upstairs or to breakfast. My sweet tooth and growling stomach win the battle.
Sure enough I was right, Buddy was lying between the kitchen and dining room. He watches every one in the room very closely just in case a scrap of some sort falls on the floor. He knows that once the food, hits the floor it is automatically turned into dog food. My dad and brothers are already seated at the table. Michael is pouring himself a glass of milk. I ask him to pour me one too. It never fails of course he objects to my request. Even though it is the smallest, simplest task he won’t do it with out putting up a fight first. I immediately look to my father. He doesn’t take his eyes away from the newspaper he is reading but knows what is going on. Nicely he asks Michael to please help Jonathan and I out in getting some milk to go with our breakfast. After a rolling of his eyes and a few words he mumbles under his breath he hands me the full glass, and he takes his seat back at the table. I thank him with out expecting a response. As we finish up breakfast my mom starts going though a checklist, making sure we have everything we will need for the two-week vacation. Shirts, shorts, pants, pajamas, under clothes, socks, deodorant, toothpaste, toothbrush, hair brush and or comb, walking shoes for when we go sight seeing, sunscreen, bathing suits, towels, soap, shampoo, and pretty much anything else you could think of. After eating and listening to my parents lecture us on how we have to be good for my aunt and uncle, we finish our last minute packing and get ready to leave. We are meeting my aunt and uncle at my grandparent’s house about an hour away. They came up to visit and are taking us back with them. After a lot of talking between the adults and a lot of cramming luggage into any available space, we kiss our parents good-bye and get into the vehicles. So much was going through my mind. I sat silently in the back seat thinking about how much fun I was going to have. My aunt had planned a few days for the lake and for us to go shopping. I was also quite scared at the same time. I was only nine years old and had never been away from my parents for more than a night or two. The silent car ride was killing me. My aunt tried to make small talk with my brother and me, but the conversation never went anywhere. Feeling rude, yet desperate to escape the silence, I decided to put on and turn up my cd player.
I have always found it to interesting to take note at the things we are passing as we drive all the way down to Virginia. First we passed a bunch of farms and country houses. We passed an Amish family and I thought how great it was that they take so much pride in their farms and labor. I was also somewhat ashamed, because I know I would never have the ambition to help my family out that much with the housework. The farther we went it seemed like there are fewer and fewer houses and cars on the road. Right before I became bored of looking at trees, large hills, and farms we hit the highway. Now I was able to observe the colors or random cars. I tried to keep a tally in my head but that didn’t last very long. I lost track and decide to change my cd from country to pop. By now the sun has finally come all the way up. I knew it was going to be a good day in central New York. I dosed off for an hour or two, thinking about the trip, hoping that I allow myself to have a good time. When we pulled into a rest stop, I woke to my aunt’s dog barking at another small dog by a tree. Suddenly, I missed Buddy already. I felt my stomach get tense like I was going to be upset. This feeling didn’t last long. I snapped back into reality and told myself to be mature. My brother turned around and told me that this will probably be the only stop we were going to make, so I better get out, stretch, and use the bathroom if I needed to. I used to fall for these tricks but not anymore. I know the only reason he is telling me this is to motivate me to get of the car.
For some reason, I’m not ready. Even thought it is a long trip and everyone complains I find it to be the best part of every trip. Every time my mom has to go to the store for something I find myself dropping what ever I’m doing to ride along with her. Some of the best conversations my mom and me have had, has taken place in the car. Some people can concentrate better when they are in their bedrooms or offices. There’s just something about rolling down the windows turning the music up and singing along to whatever comes on the radio. I do some of my more intense thinking in the car. The car is more than a way of transportation for me.





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nikki337 said...
Dec. 1, 2011 at 11:50 am
this is very good
 
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