|Current mood:|| nostalgic|
|Current music:||tim mcgraw - please remember me|
minnesota state writing test
In my childhood days, deciding whose house to play at was never a problem among my small alliance of friends. But I was always partial to Megan's "cookies-and-cream-colored" house. Something about her house in particular inspired me to be myself, and the swaying of the trees in her backyard offered an indescribable calming. I never really knew how much those memories of her house had an impact on me until now.
Megan and I would spend all day in her backyard, dreaming about and discussing silly things like our weddings, going to college together, some future kids' names, and everything else that little girls dream about. Her backyard was always fun. That was something I could count on - go to Megan's, and I wouldn't be bored. We used our avid imaginations and always came up with some crazy idea. We would climb across her Deluxe super-huge swingset like monkeys, bury coins in her weed-infested sandbox, pick full-grown peas from her mom's garden and eat them, and spy on the neighbors. Megan had a neighbor-girl who she was supposed to be nice to, but she irked us. She tried to play in the sandbox with us, but we never wanted her to. One day, we tried to make her mad at us. Megan picked the biggest green bean from her mom's garden and spliced in down the crease with her dirty thumb nail. She wrapped a live slug in rhubarb and shoved it in the bean.
"Give it to her!" I whispered to Megan. Kara, the neighbor girl, was headed towards us.
"No - you do it! She won't eat it, it's too fat," Megan tried to give it back to me.
"Don't chicken out." I gave Megan a little encouraging shove.
"Here Kara, we picked you a big green bean aannd...you can have it. I don't like beans," Megan had mastered a fake, hospitable smile.
I suddenly got worried that the slug was poisonous and would kill Kara. I didn't want her to die, just to go away! We ran inside the house; Kara didn't eat it. She was smarter than we thought.
I was around Megan a lot in second grade, and that was when we started our neverending quest to be cool. One some occasions when I made Megan laugh, she would laugh very hard, non-stop, and snort. I thought it was dorky, so I would yell, "MEGAN!!....cooool...." We would burst out laughing together at how dumb I sounded. I have since found out that it doesn't matter how cool you are, all you need to worry about is being yourself.
In Megan's backyard back in the day, we used to tape ladybugs to her swingset slide in the fall when it was covered with them. We used to pick Megan's mom's flowers out of her own flower garden and use them to bribe her to make us cookies. One time, Megan told me that the clover patch under her swings was the middle of the world. I believed her because she was my best friends\. I kind of miss those days: when all that mattered was your best friend and how much time you had to play together that day. One time, my mom didn't let me go to Megan's until after we went to the lake for a couple hours. I was so mad at my mom and was crabby all day at the lake. The only thing I wanted to do was be with my friend. I never understood how much my old friends meant to me until now.
Megan and I shared so many crazy memories of her house, mostly good memories. Her backyard was like a secret wonderland for us to share. It is hard sometimes to understand how some place as simple as a friend's house and backyard could mean so much to me and hold the title for my favorite childhood place to play. But the memories and the friends that accompany this place are the things that capture its beauty and childhood essence. Those memories are what shaped and set the standard for my idea of a perfect childhood. I believe that the person I am today and who I will be in the future is determined, in part, by Megan and her backyard. Favorite places are memorable; friends and memories are priceless.