Lost in my Memories
The memories instantly rush back to my mind when I begin to read the book my mom used to read to me. The stories we shared will never leave my memory. I am packing up to head to the cemetery to visit my mom, on my list of things to bring with me is a pillow, a sleeping bag and blanket, so I can take a nap if needed, and last but definitely not least, Herald and the Purple Crayon, which always stays next to my bed. As I hop in the car the only thing that I double check that I have is Herald and the Purple Crayon. My dad and I pull up to the cemetery, turn down the music and drive slowly through the windy roads to get to the path where I walk to my mom. After, I set up my sleeping bag and pillow I begin to read Herald and …show more content…
I wanted to go to the cemetery twice that week, one time to celebrate her birthday and to once mourn her death. For the first visit I decide I would morn and go on on her actual death. Since it was summer I no longer needed my sleeping bag. On my list for this trip to the cemetery was a large beach blanket, a pillow, a stuffed animal, and Hope for the Flowers, this was my mom’s all time favorite book. She believed the story and everything about it. My dad and I got in the car and took that twenty-minute drive which was spent listening to music and not talking. On that car ride I think of things that I am going to tell my mom and what I need to complain to her about and stuff that she just needs to know. When I see the Shalom Cemetery sign I realize that all of that thinking was for nothing, because I know that once I get in front of her grave I will be speechless, and not know what to say. That’s when I pull out the book knowing that she will love, not only Hope for the Flowers, but also hearing me read. She will know that I keep improving and getting better at reading without her even though it is extremely tough. However as I begin the third page everything becomes a blur and I envision the memories of us reading Hope for the Flowers together. I see myself lying on the carpet on the family room floor with both my dogs’ heads on my arms. My mom is on the couch rubbing my feet, and when she stops, I wiggle them under her hands and she starts again. She reads the book to me and I listen in awe. I only interrupt her if I have an important question about the book. Most of the time that important question was how tall do you think the pillar is. We would go back and forth getting higher and higher until I ended off jumping of the couch, then I would whisper to her that I had a secret and she would say, “what?” My secret was always I love you more than
The memories instantly rush back to my mind when I begin to read the book my mom used to read to me. The stories we shared will never leave my memory. I am packing up to head to the cemetery to visit my mom, on my list of things to bring with me is a pillow, a sleeping bag and blanket, so I can take a nap if needed, and last but definitely not least, Herald and the Purple Crayon, which always stays next to my bed. As I hop in the car the only thing that I double check that I have is Herald and the Purple Crayon. My dad and I pull up to the cemetery, turn down the music and drive slowly through the windy roads to get to the path where I walk to my mom. After, I set up my sleeping bag and pillow I begin to read Herald and …show more content…
I wanted to go to the cemetery twice that week, one time to celebrate her birthday and to once mourn her death. For the first visit I decide I would morn and go on on her actual death. Since it was summer I no longer needed my sleeping bag. On my list for this trip to the cemetery was a large beach blanket, a pillow, a stuffed animal, and Hope for the Flowers, this was my mom’s all time favorite book. She believed the story and everything about it. My dad and I got in the car and took that twenty-minute drive which was spent listening to music and not talking. On that car ride I think of things that I am going to tell my mom and what I need to complain to her about and stuff that she just needs to know. When I see the Shalom Cemetery sign I realize that all of that thinking was for nothing, because I know that once I get in front of her grave I will be speechless, and not know what to say. That’s when I pull out the book knowing that she will love, not only Hope for the Flowers, but also hearing me read. She will know that I keep improving and getting better at reading without her even though it is extremely tough. However as I begin the third page everything becomes a blur and I envision the memories of us reading Hope for the Flowers together. I see myself lying on the carpet on the family room floor with both my dogs’ heads on my arms. My mom is on the couch rubbing my feet, and when she stops, I wiggle them under her hands and she starts again. She reads the book to me and I listen in awe. I only interrupt her if I have an important question about the book. Most of the time that important question was how tall do you think the pillar is. We would go back and forth getting higher and higher until I ended off jumping of the couch, then I would whisper to her that I had a secret and she would say, “what?” My secret was always I love you more than