Assignment: After reading Barbara Kingsolver's essay, Knowing Our Place, respond with your own creative piece regarding place. Choose a geographical location that was important to you in childhood, describe this location, and explain the importance of that space for you.
I Have a Place Where All My Stories Begin
-- Anonymous, Writing 12
One of these places is a tiny sandbox in the backyard of my first home, a two-meter-two-meter square, where everything was kosher and the screams couldn't follow. It was a haven, and a clubhouse. I often sat in it, dreaming, creating my own fantasy world.
The smell of freshly cut grass mingled with dinner still brings me back to those summer days.
My friends and I would always hang out in that sandbox. I can still to this day recall the feel of the coarse sand flowing through my hands, like a dream I was trying desperately to hold on to. In that special sandbox there were no fights, only harmony, and, of course, sandcastles.
When eventually my parents split up and we had to move away from everything I'd known, saying goodbye to my sandbox was like
bidding farewell to my best friend.
My life hasn't been easy by any stretch of the word. I moved around all over the place, and was never able to place my roots in the ground, and make a permanent home. Having my parents in my opinion be selfishly unable to cope with each other's company and getting a divorce has definitely made me guarded, and unwilling to share my feelings.
In addition to being a very guarded human being, I also vowed to myself and my unborn children that they will never have to feel the strenuous and painful turmoil of a family broken.
Assignment: After our class discussion about Valentine's Day, write a short response expressing your personal experience with love.
In Honour of Valentine's Day
-- Jordi Hamilton, Writing 12
When I picture her, what I see is not an image, but an experience.
The immediate image is of her standing in front of me. There is no setting: this all happens on a black background. She then puts her hands over my shoulders; mine slide around her back. We hug. It is warm and lasting. She smells nice, an indescribable smell, for it is never the same. It varies from time to time, but is always familiar, calming.
Then the bad thoughts arise.
After all the recent drama, it is hard to suppress them. I hear her angry voice; she is standing ten feet away. My chest feels empty.
Not only my heart is missing, but
anything in its vicinity.
At that point, I summon back the happy, relaxing thoughts.
They fuse with the pain, a swirling mass of pain, happiness, longing, and mostly confusion. I lose the ability to think, to feel... I just float through time. The more time that passes, and the closer I come to seeing her again, I hope that
maybe the pain will go away.
