which one do you like best? can you please rate each from 1-10 (10 being best)
1)There is a section of my home that is framed-by a wooden frame. It is neither ornately carved or of a unique design, but the ebony wood was striking against the pale crème walls.
The frame is not big; it is only three feet tall and one foot wide.
My friends would reach their fingers out, tentatively, looking around every the while, to touch what the frame holds. On their faces would be a sort of frustrated curiosity.
When they met no glass, their hands would lurch forward, like when one trips while walking down a staircase, when their feet do not find another stair but smooth pavement. They must have expected whatever enticed them, to be protected.
On a slightly yellowed piece of paper, that makes one think of antique, are two hands traced in pencil. One is slightly larger than the other, and the lines are strangely wobbly as if drawn by a child just learning to hold a pencil.
2) It was a windy day, and when people ventured outside with their umbrellas, they were deterred as gusts of wind would flip their umbrellas inside out, and lift their coats almost vertically in the air which would whip in the air with a sharp, Crack!.
cab drivers looked at their cabs with fearful eyes; they could already look that today was a day when driving would be a menace, not a necessity; the chance of totaling their car didn’t seem quite as low as yesterday. The road looked like a long black slippery snake, slick as ice and the clay used to fill potholes and dirt from gardens would travel to down slopes to the middle of the road.
But the air smelled sweet, like freshly clip grass; it was a crisp, faint scent. It made one want to inhale deeply, as if to store this fragrance inside to keep. The rain called for hot water bottles, hot chocolate, and smiles. Secrets, dreams, art, poetry, kids, and spring. It felt as if someone was brushing the dust away from a forgotten book or wiping a bad slate clean. And then, you remember that even wonderful illusions, short moments, like these have to end, and after it is over, its memory leaves a painful, sweet taste in your mouth, reminding you that it didn’t change anything.
3)The summer Marlowe volunteered at the Larson General Hospital, was when she had been thirteen for a few months. Her school required every eighth graders to volunteer at the library, hospital, or act as a tutor so that when they leave high school and allowed to receive work permits, they would have an idea what to expect.
Marlowe’s home was only a few blocks away from the hospital; a ten or fifteen minutes would be a sufficient time for her to leave the home and arrive at the hospital.
Many of her friends, had volunteered at the hospital because it seemed to be the easiest job to do. In their minds, they were wearing crisp white uniforms and delivered flowers to patient rooms and organized magazines. This seemed favorable to teaching quadratic equations and learning the Dewey Decimal System, which was inevitable as a tutor or a library assistant.
So, when she finally signed her name on the volunteer slips, and filled in the box labeled Hospital, most of the spots were filled. And when Marlowe went to the Larson General Hospital, or the LGH as the volunteers called it, there was only one spot left, and that was..,Companion.
A companion was a person that stayed with some of the more lonely patients, and talked to them. Usually no one would want to be a companion, because they usually did not volunteer to help, but because they had to.
