Lemonade Creative Writing

My daughter hooked her finger into mine, and we walked side by side. Our hands swung back and forth in leisure in the same rhythm with our foot steps like two solders marched down the street. My daughter's eyes were busy looking every objects at the front yards. Sometimes, our head tilted back and our eyes looked up to followed the sound of birds chirping overhead. We saw no sign of birds but a ceiling of dense oak leaves. Along the street, a very long canopy of oak branches draped over the street gave an illusion of us walking in the tunnel. The playful oak leaves hit one another caused by the occasional gentle breeze. Some leaves danced side to side as they flew down from high above. Others spun out of control before hitting the ground.

Many riped bright yellow lemons hung low from the branches. My daughter turned her body toward me and waves both of hands in front of my face. At the same time, her legs carried her body up and down, as she tried to jump up to get my attention. I stood still in front of her. Her head tilted back, and our faces met. Her eyes lit up with excitement and said, " Mom, can we have some lemonade after our walk?" The thought of fresh lemonade made my mouth watering. I replied with a smile, " Sure!" the lemon tree was followed by a long row of tall, red and white oleanders planted along the side walk in a bed of dirt raised about two and half feet high above the