Writing 101: Day 11
Tell us about the home where you lived when you were twelve. The Twist? Pay attention to the size of your sentences.
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I was almost 4 years old when we came to Livermore, CA. My dad was hired by the large research lab there, so we moved from Southern up to Central California, and we moved into a cute little house on Pine Street.
I had my 12th birthday party in the house on Pine Street. My BFF since third grade was there. I didn’t really have a lot of friends, I was goofy looking, and that made me shy.
I did most of my growing up on that street. We knew the neighbors. My little sister and the little girl next door were the same age, and next door on the other side lived our babysitter. She was cool because she played with us, and didn’t spend all night on the phone.
If you count the years I lived on Pine Street, you would only have to count to ten. We moved across town, “to the right side of the tracks” my mom said, when I was 15. The new house had a pool AND it was a short walk to school now, so I was happy. My bedroom even had a purple (my favorite color) carpet. I didn’t think much about the old house.
Now, I was the girl next door who babysits. Funny how things turn around like that. I still dream, on occasion, that I live in that Pine Street house – but I’m an adult, not a kid. When I am there, it is always at night, and something scary is going on. I’m hiding crouched on the floor because I don’t want to be seen by aliens, or an enemy’s army, through the picture window in the living-room. Or meteors are smacking into our area, if it’s not a terrible earthquake. Something big and nasty.
I honestly think these nightmares have nothing to do with Pine Street. They are manifested by spending a lot of grade school under my desk, my head tucked under my arms, and my eyes closed tight. They called them “Duck and Cover” drills. Practicing, for when nuclear bombs were going to strike.
I had no clue what a nuclear bomb was. I do remember the classrooms had huge windows on one side though.