The Gift of Time

          There’s nothing regular about this Sunday. As my cousins and I sit in Meme and Pawpaw’s cozy, warm bedroom, away from the freezing January weather outside, watching TV, my hands are soaked in sweat as I fret about the awaiting news. I hear the simple, yet terrifying, “ring, ring, ring!” of the telephone, I run to the living room just as Bee, my mom’s cousin, answers it. Impatiently, I stand there and wait as a curious eleven-year-old. Then, just as Bee drops to her knees and I see the tears streaming down her face, a feeling hits me so hard I want to scream as I realize what has just happened. My aunt, Tori, picks the phone up and begins to talk. I can hear the twist as my stomach knots up. She hangs up. As my head spins, I am ushered back into the bedroom with the cousins. After I hear the gut-wrenching news of my grandfather’s death, I’m in shock and all I can feel is my heart breaking as the tears flood out.

            My mind instantly flashes to the time when Pawpaw was teaching me how to swing.

           
           I clutch the plastic covered chains so hard that my knuckles turn white. Pawpaw begins pushing me and then he tells me when to tuck my legs back and swing them out again. I’m so excited as I realize that I’m doing it all by myself.

            My tears fall more heavily as I realize that Pawpaw won’t ever get to teach all of my cousins how to swing. They’ll never have that wonderful experience like me.

 

It’s a Wednesday. A typical Wednesday if fifth grade a month or so before the new year. I go over to Meme and Pawpaw’s house after school every Wednesday now. After finishing my homework, I begin to miss my Webkinz. So, I decide to tell Pawpaw all about them. I walk over to his chair. Pawpaw’s chair. The chair he always sits in.

            I begin speaking by a simple question, “Pawpaw, do you know what Webkinz are?”

            He gave a simple reply, one I expected, “No.”

            I got excited and began to speak quickly, “Well, I have twelve of them. They’re stuffed animals that have a code that you use to put in your account on your computer.”

            Pawpaw said, “Oh, wow! What do you do on the computer?”

            As an eleven year old, I was glad to know that someone wanted to hear about my Webkinz. I ecstatically talked all about how I got to play games with them and decorate rooms for each of them.

            After finishing the description of my Webkinz, I said, “I wish I could show you them!”

Moments later, I realize that Riley’s, my younger brother by two years, birthday is coming up. So, I add on, “Hey, when you come to our house for Riley’s birthday party in February, I can show my Webkinz to you then.”

            Pawpaw smiles and says, “Sounds like a plan!”

            I walk back to my chair to color while thoughts flow through my mind. I grin as I realize that Pawpaw is my favorite family member. He listens to me no matter how stupid the subject is, and whether he fakes the excitement or not, I appreciate it. I know I can tell him anything. I'm thankful for the time I have with him.

 

            It’s another Sunday after church and the whole family is here at Meme's house for lunch, like any other regular Sunday. Even after my twelfth birthday in May, four months after Pawpaw’s heart attack, I still look at the first chair on the left of the table and expect to see Pawpaw sitting there with a beer in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. Seeing my uncle by the stove cooking, rather than Pawpaw, still pains me. The thought that I’ve had the last of my days talking and laughing with my Pawpaw just isn’t right. You really don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

 

            “All you have to do is press the gas, I’ll be doing the steering.” Pawpaw explains as I just stare in fright.

            I wanted to, but I didn’t. Driving the four-wheeler? I thought. It’s time for Sunday lunch and what am I, this nine year old, doing? I’m contemplating on whether to “drive” the four-wheeler or not.

            I got in Pawpaw’s lap and Riley sat on the very back. As Pawpaw started it up, I heard the low rumble of the four-wheeler coming to life. While I pressed on the gas button, Pawpaw steered, Riley sat back, and we drove in circles around the enormous backyard. After awhile though, I thought I’d speed up.

            Due to the rain from previous days, there were still ruts in the grass. The second I pressed harder on the gas to speed up, we were going over one of the ruts. I felt the four-wheeler begin to tip as it flung my body off. I hit the grass with a thud and all I heard was crying and groans. I got to my feet and stood there as I watched Riley running towards the house crying with a hand on his back. I can’t register that Pawpaw is stuck underneath the four-wheeler, groaning.

            I faintly see my family coming out of the house. I feel someone’s arms slip around me as I am scooped up and carried towards the house.

            Shock. Shock is what they would call it. This is what I’m in, and it’s also the explanation as to why I just stood there and did nothing. The last thing I see before I enter the house is the men moving the four-wheeler off of Pawpaw. I feel my heart breaking as I think: It’s all my fault.

            But luckily, Riley only has a bleeding scratch on his back, Pawpaw has a broken arm, and then there’s me, a child in shock. It could have been worse…

 

            Through good and bad experiences, people can learn anything. Sometimes you need to learn how to spend your time wisely. You never know what may happen. Time is something that should be valued, not wasted.

Learning to Love to Read

Learning to read and write began early. In preschool we learned our "ABC's," so I was already ahead when I entered kindergartenen. In kindergarten we began to learn to read and write. Once we learned how to write we learned words, and that grew into phrases, which then grew into sentences. After we got that over with, we added on more and more until we could read very thin, or small, books.

In first grade, since we then knew how to read, we began to go to kindergarten classes on certain days and read books to the kindergartners. I remember how much I loved that! I absolutely enjoyed it! It was a new experience that was so much fun.

In the beginning, I never really liked to read. I would never read on my own time for fun. It was mainly because of AR, or Accelerated Reader. From elementary school all the way through middle school they made you read books and take ten question tests over the books. It was not any fun, and eventually led to a build up of hate towards reading. I tried to find books I would enjoy, and did at times. It was just the fact that you were stressed to pay attention to every single detail so you would do good on the quiz over it.

When I was finally done with AR in seventh grade, we all rejoiced! So, when I entered the eighth grade, it seemed weird not having to take those stupid tests. Instead, all we had to do was read on our own during homeroom. Trust me, this was MUCH better. We were not under any stress, so I began to enjoy reading... on my own.

Eighth grade was the grade I discovered Nicholas Sparks' books. Nicholas Sparks writes romance novels. These were, and still are, my favorite of all the books I have read. This was the initial point when I began to read on my own a ton. After finding these books, I actually enjoyed reading on my own time. It was fun to get absorbed into the unraveling love stories.

By ninth grade, I always had a Nicholas Sparks book tucked under my arm as I walked down the halls to my next class. Sometimes I even had the book open while I read and dodged the kids running to class at the same time. My best friend and I were, and are still, trying to read all of his books. By reading his books my vocabulary increased alot, and I learned to read at a faster pace.

In Pre-AP English 9 we read several books. Some I enjoyed, others I did not care for that much. But, after reading so much that year, I was very interested in reading more. This past summer was the first one that I read books without my mom making me simply because I loved it so much. Yes, they were mostly Nicholas Sparks, but those books did keep my grammar and vocabulary in check. Therefore, I learned. And who would have thought?

I learned to enjoy  reading once I found something I liked. This year I come home and sometimes I will sit down to read... a book that I am not required to read for school. It's relaxing and I feel good because I'm not stressed because I don't absolutely hate it now!

I Am Me...

I am big hearted and a small town girl,
I wonder how my life will turn out,
I hear laughter all around me,
I see a perfect summer day,
I want a big white house with red shutters,
I am big hearted and a small town girl.

I pretend to sing to an audience that isn't there,
I feek heartbreak when thinking of my best friend that moved,
I touch the mountain top, knowing I've just succeeded,
I worry that I won't ever be good enough,
I cry when thinking of all my insecurities,
I am big hearted and a small town girl.

I understand that I can't make everyone happy,
I say that Christ died for me and everyone else,
I dream of an amazing happily ever after,
I try to be the best kind of friend that anyone could have,
I hope to one day find my true love,
I am big hearted and a small town girl.

Think Twice About Judging

     We've all judged someone before. Whether it was by looks, clothes, or even family... we've all done it. It's like human nature to us. We reallly don't need to judge a person by their outward appearance though.
     We need to look deeper into someone. For example, if you saw "a very old man, lying face down in the mud," what would you think? He's dirty, or even homeless? Maybe he's Jesus in diguise. He could even be an angel God sent from heaven to help. The angel in "A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings" was judged by people. People tossed "him things to eat through the openings in the wire as if he weren't a supernatural creature, but a circus animal." On the outside the angel was "dressed like ragpicker" and his wings were "dirty and half-plucked were forever entagled in the mud." On the inside though, the angel helped, was caring, and patient. He did miracles to the blind man, the paralytic, and the leper. On the outside the angel probably looked scary, but he never did anything to harm someone.
     I myself judge people often, and that's bad considering I don't know them. Last year I ended up having most of my classes with a girl I hated. I thought she was mean, stuck up, and rude. As the year went on though, I learned that I was totally wrong. She was really nice to me, funny (not rude!), and not stuck up at all. She's a really good friend of mine now. I guess I learned my lesson on judging others before I get to know them!
     In the story when the neighbor came she said, "He must have been coming for the child, but the poor fellow is so old that the rain knocked him down." On the outside he was just an old, dirty angel, but that wasn't how he was on the inside. He came to help and heal the the young child. It shouldn't matter what's on the outside of someone as long as the inside is good and right.