I was having a tutoring lesson and my teacher asked me to write a summary of who I am by writing 8 paragraphs, each one about a something important in my life.
I'm from my kind of old, shy, loving mom who sleeps with Vanilla, a little, cute, cream-colored stuffed bunny. She sleeps on her back with her mouth closed, her hair down, on the left side of the bed (because my dad has a neck problem and must sleep on the right), and Vanilla is always somewhere different from the place she was the night before (because toy animals never stay in the same place overnight).
I'm from my kind of old, shy, loving mom who sleeps with Vanilla, a little, cute, cream-colored stuffed bunny. She sleeps on her back with her mouth closed, her hair down, on the left side of the bed (because my dad has a neck problem and must sleep on the right), and Vanilla is always somewhere different from the place she was the night before (because toy animals never stay in the same place overnight).
I’m from my little 5-year-old brother who chases me around the house,
carrying a 2’3” tall, brown and green coconut tree toy, stuffed with beans,
that I’ve had since I was 5. He tries to
playfully bop me on the head, but despite his best efforts, he never manages to
lift it high enough because it’s way too heavy for his small self.
I’m from my brave, 43-year old, hard-working dad who takes me to
practice tennis in the B.A.L.T.C club at 8:00 every weekend morning and
Wednesday and Friday in the afternoon. He
wears a polo shirt, light, greenish-brown cargo pants, and grey Wilson shoes. He’s really good at tennis even though no one
took him to play when he was my age, and he practiced hitting against the wall
alone. Even though he’s a great and
dedicated player, I beat him quite often.
I’m from swinging at the yellow-green tennis ball carefully and
accurately to get it in. I’m from the
shuffling sound of my American flag colored Fila shoes on the deeply colored
court. I’m from rubbing the sweat that
trickles down the back of my neck, resulting in a burning itch. I’m from the smell of fresh, damp air that makes
mildew on my tennis clothes. I’m from
the taste of imported chocolate Balance bars that give me energy to finish
practice.
I’m from taking a big plane anywhere in the world with my family. I’m from exploring 30 different countries,
though my favorite was when we sailed in the Baltic Sea with my cousins’ family
and our grandma. I’m from the 13-story
cruise boat with seven floors of dormitories, two basements, one 100-meter
indoor pool, three outdoor pools, an ice cream parlour, a hamburger, taco and
pizza restaurant, a café (where I played Pachelbel’s Canon on my violin in a
quartet), a gym, a ballroom, a casino, a giant TV screen (big enough for
everyone on the boat to watch the World Cup Final) and a kids’ center (where I made
a shark tooth and bead necklace). After
ten days, my 14-year old cousin, Michael, and I had memorized every room in the
entire Princess Cruise.
I’m from hearing loud, bubbling water and smelling ramen with beef soup
base cooking over a hot flame. I’m from
eating it with long, thin chopsticks on a freezing cold day. It tastes salty, and it warms up my whole
body.
I’m from living on a quiet block
that looks down from our 13th floor on the busy and noisy zoo. From the porch I can see three one-humped, lopsided
camels that spend all day dreaming about life outside of the zoo. I’m from seeing foot monkeys on their own
small island throwing an old water bottle at each other and squeaking as they
laugh. I’m from inspecting the strong
condor that flies around in its 20-meter cage.
I’m from holding my toy animals while I spy on the real creatures across
the street.
I’m from seeing a soft, brown bunny in a pet shop in Seattle. I’m from sticking my finger through the iron
cage and the bunny sniffing me. I’m from
feeling sad that it couldn’t come with us.
