An excerpt from my advanced writing class this semester.


The flowerbox attached to the shingled front wall is always meticulously manicured, and the hedges are always trimmed in a neat row. Hydrangeas frame the front porch, a burst of blue. Two striped awnings, now bleached from years in the sun, flutter in the breeze of a late August afternoon. The windows are always open, inviting the breeze in to cool the space.

A table, surrounded by four chairs angled towards each other, a ghost of conversations past. Sunflowers adorn the table’s bare surface. Fragmented light streams in through the front window, illuminating the lazy specs of dust swirling in the air. The flowers turn their faces towards the light.

A bottle of wines sits open on the countertop next to a corkscrew. The corkscrew is shaped like a woman wearing a dress, and pushing her ‘arms’ down pulls the cork from the bottle. Three glasses, half full, sit throughout the house. Next to the stove, on the bookshelf. The smell of taco seasoning, so fragrant and particular, drifts from room to room.

“I can’t believe he missed that catch” my dad says, as though he feels personally attacked by the actions of the players on the TV.

“Suckfest” my sister adds, a nickname she anointed this particular player with. Laughter rises and mingles with the specs of dust.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s