On Returning Back to Candlewood The drive was just as long as I remembered it the first time. The Massachusetts Turnpike never failed to take up most of our driving time on the way to Connecticut. Once again, I felt just as nervous to spend the week with Michael and his family. I was close with them, but I still felt as though I’d do something that would break the deal, and they’d stop liking me. So, I sat in the back of Mr. Torr’s car and hoped that the ride would be over and I would be able to relax again. After a good five and a half hours, we pulled up to the driveway on the side of the house that overlooked the lake. The Torr’s had the best view out of anyone in the neighborhood. I felt lucky that they’d invite me to the last weekend at Candlewood Lake. Once I was settled in to my new room for the week and I’d made sure to say hello to everyone, I began to feel at home, like had the last time. My hands no longer felt …show more content…
I wasn't ready to leave, it would only remind me of how close summer was to being over. Mike and I huddled on the couch, wrapped up in blankets to hide from the numbing air conditioner, and watched what was left of whatever movie played on ABC Family. It seemed as though it was everyone’s last week at Candlewood. There were going away parties for college students, fully packed cars in driveways, and empty houses. The neighborhood that was once bustling with people from all over, now seemed like every other small town neighborhood on a quiet Sunday night. Candlewood was never that neighborhood on a quiet Sunday night, people were always out and about. As Mike and I took one more walk up and down the silent streets, I absorbed the “at home” feeling that had grown in my chest during the short week. That night the last thought that flowed through my head were those of when I would return back to
The arrival of winter was well on its way. Colorful leaves had turned to brown and fallen from the branches of the trees. The sky opened to a new brightness with the disappearance of the leaves. As John drove down the country road he was much more aware of all his surroundings. He grew up in this small town and knew he would live there forever. He knew every landmark in this area. This place is where he grew up and experienced many adventures. The new journey of his life was exciting, but then he also had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach of something not right.
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
A certain familiarity has developed over time that makes it home. As I sit here, I can vividly picture myself there. I drive my car into the pot-hole filled parking lot off the main street, and park in the same spot I always have, people just seem to know that’s my spot. Walking around the back I gently push open the wooden door, which is like a barrier between two different worlds. The hot thick air quickly rushes out and escapes past my body. The familiar damp smell of sweat still inundates my nose when I walk into the ...
Growing up in a small mid-western town was exactly like a lot of people imagine it to be. The years kept passing by, but it seemed like nothing ever changed. We went to school, played sports, chased girls, worked on our friend’s father’s farms, and talked about how we couldn’t wait until we graduated so that we could finally move out.
We drove in silence, the only noise being her deep breathing and my short, shallow sighs. I realized just how far I had walked, as we drove to my house- at least 5 miles. When we reached our house, I looked at it, as if I was seeing it for the first time in my life- the old fashioned porches, the balcony, the huge, beautiful windows. I stayed in the car, as did Micha, neither of us making an attempt to move as she commented on the grass needing cut, and the mess the neighbors had made in the front yard. I heard her, but I wasn't listening- I was merely staring ahead of me, debating if I should get out and run inside or try to justify my actions.
It is 6:25 in the morning. The outside is still pitch black; there is no hint of sunlight coming through the curtain. It will be hours before sunrise. I can barely see my fingers in front of my face.
A couple of friends and I went camping last summer around Pitt Lake. We were a group of four skinny urkels who knew almost nothing about camping, and it didn’t help to have hiking backpacks twice our size and weight. One day, we were canoeing on the lake about 2 hours from land, and almost 4 hours from our destination. Out of the blue, a loud roar echoed through my ears. I first I thought it was the 3 cups of Mr.Noodles I hogged this morning until one of my buddies yelled out “THUNDER” . Being the charismatic leader I am, I calmly tried to reassure them that it was going to be okay, but all that came out of my mouth was a loud screech. I was more motivated than ever to reach our destination, but my friend was, even more, eager to reach shore
It’s September of 2009, the semi-truck is sitting outside with all of our belongings in it, like an airplane waiting to take us away. Today is gloomy and raining as usual, but I know I’m going to miss it. The sun has started going down; we all get into the vehicles we’re designated. Me, my Dad, and Jade our Boxer into the truck, Mom Jaycee and the other animals into the car, and my Aunt Tina and Grandma into their suburban. It’s bitter sweet, I am so excited to go to a new city, new state, new everything, but I’m leaving behind everyone I grew up with. My closest friends who thought I was funny, not weird. Who I consider my brother, Daniel, and my mom’s side of the family all left behind. We begin driving, the truck brakes releasing
It was then, as I shut the door behind me, that the tears started to run down my face. I walked down the back steps and once at the bottom I turned around to admire the building that had seen me grow. Although the bricks were eroded, the white siding was appearing to look gray, and the shutters were faded it was certainly home to me. I never loved each and every imperfection that this house had to offer, especially in this very moment. As I loaded in the U-Haul with father, I remember thinking this was the end of my life and everything that I’ve known for the past fifteen years has come to an end.
We slowly crept around the corner, finally sneaking a peek at our cabin. As I hopped out of the front seat of the truck, a sharp sense of loneliness came over me. I looked around and saw nothing but the leaves on the trees glittering from the constant blowing wind. Catching myself standing staring around me at all the beautiful trees, I noticed that the trees have not changed at all, but still stand tall and as close as usual. I realized that the trees surrounding the cabin are similar to the being of my family: the feelings of never being parted when were all together staying at our cabin.
The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning to the four-story walk up I inhabited for the majority of my young life. Instead of the pavement surrounding my former building, the final turn of our seemingly endless journey revealed the sprawling grass expanse of a baseball field directly across from an unfamiliar driveway sloping in front of the red brick walls that eventually came to be know as home.
The car was hot and stuffy when I slipped back into the driver's seat. I found the most depressing music I owned and drove out of Glenwood as the sun started to set. Two more hours until I was home, two more hours of thinking what a terrible day I had gone through, and two more hours of cussing myself for being so naïve. The drive was a long one.
It all started on a brisk fall day in late October. The day dawned sunny and crisp, with a light cool breeze. As I drove to Annelise’s house with the sun just above the horizon, the excitement of the adventure waiting before me raced through my veins. When I arrived at Annelise’s house, she was waiting on her door step, with her backpack at her side. She hastily grabbed her pack and dashed to the car.
“Maybe I should go back” I said taking one last glance, at the strange woods surrounding me, before turning to leave. Just then I heard a loud snap and I whipped around to see where it came from. I held my breath as my eyes darted from the ground to the trees. Then something caught my attention, through the trees I saw the reflection of the sunset, in a lake. “Huh, I never knew this was out here” I said walking towards it.
...t the strange thing was that it wasn’t my cocoon of a home that I missed. I had created a new life in the few short weeks that I had lived in Flagstaff. I found a family in the friends that I made, and wanted to see them again, ask them about their weekends and simply make sure that everything that I made was still there.