Draw a Story

My entry for the "Draw a Story" contest.


1. On Concord Drive

I used to live on Concord drive, a looping road on the edge of town where everyone was a little too friendly with their neighbors. My house was small and plain; it was cream-colored with notorious green shutters. My mom would later lament the loss of those shutters when the family who replaced us painted them black. I remember the house for what it looked like on the outside and the inside. I recall the kitchen with its pearly white tiles, the sliding doors I would constantly mess around with, and the huge closet filled with winter coats that I thought the monsters would hide in. However, my most important memories are not the ones spent inside, but outside. When we opened our back door, we entered a new land, ripe with adventure. A stream ran through our backyard creating the thick mud we would create our pies with. We would grab the leaves littering the earth and race them down the stream. Down they would go to the pond where we would pretend to fish for the koi with the twigs fallen from the trees. We would amble around looking for nooks to build forts in. We would stalk the trails of prints from deer to nowhere, just to run around in a never-ending story. We were little and the spry trees could hold our weight. Up and up, we would climb until the pond looked a bit smaller. Then, I would chicken out and slide quickly back down. My brothers would climb a bit higher and higher each time, until my mother would run out from the house and yell for them to come down waving her wooden spoon. In our backyard, we were everything our imagination could create: from magicians to astronauts, and everything in between. In the house we were children, but outside we were wild. When my family moved to the center of town, closer to the middle school, we lost our spacious backyard to the crowded homes. We lost the freedom to the fence. Every so often, when I find myself on Concord drive, I stop by our house and stare at those black shutters. The new family doesn’t have any younger children. The twigs just fall now. No more eager hands to grab them up and swing them about. But I can see the trees in the backyard towering over the house and see shadows of my childhood climbing their branches. 


Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...