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May 25, 2001 |
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Saturday Morning Memories |
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����������� On Saturday mornings I am always excited to get up and greet a new day, especially in the spring and summer.� I rush to get ready because I know I have to be somewhere very early.� It is not work or school, but it is my hidden treasure, somewhere to go to be alone and be free to be myself.� My hidden treasure is the picnic area at Yorktown beach.� When I am there I feel free to do whatever I want.� I have a lot of time to think about the day, week or month. I have a very busy life, and I need some time to think to myself.� Some of the enjoyment I get out of going to Yorktown is the feeling of the grass gently tickling my leg, the soft breezes, and the way I can imagine a hill as a mountain to explore.� I also have time to think about poetry, stories or just write down my thoughts. |
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����������� The closer I get to Yorktown, the faster I want to drive my car.� My heart starts beating quickly and my emotions run wild.� I get excited knowing that I am going to relax.� I park the car, pull out my blanket and notebook, and then walk over to the picnic area.� I find a nice cool area to lay my blanket out.� Usually, I find somewhere under a tree or out of the way of other people.� |
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����������� When I go to Yorktown, I do not always go to think to myself.� I like to write stories, and I may get an idea from watching different families.� I write my thoughts down in the notebook I bring.� Sometimes I write poems, stories, and I often write in the notebook as if it were a journal.� I am not a very good writer, but the notebook is just a way to release different feelings I may be holding inside.� |
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����������� When I have finished writing, I will usually lie down and look up at the sky.� I find it very peaceful not talking or thinking when I am there.� As I lie there underneath the tree all by myself, I feel the soft grass.� I like to pick up a small handful and throw it up into the air.� I watch it fly away and wish I could do the same.� I feel the grass one more time, pick up a small handful and throw it.� This time, the grass falls down on me and I realize that I am not really going to fly away either.� The smell of the grass and the trees gives the picnic area a country smell.� This is a smell that I am not quite familiar with, but I very much enjoy. |
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����������� As I am lying in the hot, humid air, a cool breeze quickly, but gently, blows my shirt, shorts and hair.� This, to me, is the best feeling in the world.� I just lie there with my eyes fixed on the clouds and feel the same breeze blow on me that blows the clouds.� I go to the thought of being blown away and then realize I cannot be blown away, just like I cannot fly away.� I take a brief break from cloud watching and look to the right, and I see four small hills.� I remember back when I was a child and climbing those "mountains" took forever.� I would always try to climb the rocks around the bottom because I felt brave, and unstoppable.� What an imagination.� To think those four hills could suddenly be the biggest mountains.� I loved every minute though.� |
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����������� Here comes the worst part of the day, leaving.� I am always sad when I leave such a wonderful place.� I feel sad because sometimes I think I may not be able to come back again.� The memories of the soft grass, the cool breezes, and the "large mountain" go through my head.� When will I be back?� Next week.� A smile then appears on my face. |
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