Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Sad (07/26/07)
TITLE: 18 Apple Blossom Lane
By Marita Vandertogt
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Last year, when I lived at 18 Apple Blossom Lane, I used to have a kitten, and the kitten would play in the hallway under the big light in the night time, and under the sun that came through the skylight in the day. Last year, when I lived on Apple Blossom Lane, I was still happy.
But my mom and I moved out last year, and they put a red and white For Sale sign on the lawn. Now I live with my grandmother and my grandfather, and my dad comes and sees me every other week. He drives up to the house and honks, and I get in with my overnight bag and go to his new place. No one lives on Apple Blossom Lane anymore.
I still have Steely, but now she hides a lot in my grandmaís house, usually behind the big green chair in the living room. Sometimes I hide there too because I donít want to hear their voices. I donít like when they talk about my dad.
Itís very crowded here in my grandparentís house. They donít really have room for us, not like the house on Apple Blossom Lane. The rooms there were big and full of light, and fun.
Until my mom started to cry a lot, almost every day, and my dad would leave the house and not come back until after I fell asleep. She stopped crying since we moved here though, away from my dad. They still talk to each other when he comes to pick me up, but then when he drops me off, and she waves from the window, I hear her say things real soft, her voice low, and I know they arenít nice. Sometimes at night, I can hear her cry, cause we share the same room now, and she thinks Iím asleep. I donít sleep very well now that I donít live on Apple Blossom Lane. I sleep with one eye open, like Steely. Thatís what they say about cats, though I never did see her do it yet.
And on Sundays, when we get up, my mom makes breakfast for all of us, in the kitchen, with eggs frying and bacon and then the toast I love with the nuts and raisins in it. She always cooked breakfast for us at Apple Blossom Lane too, and she always made us healthy food because she said I had to grow healthy and my dad had to stay strong for his job. And sometimes on those mornings, my dad would sleep in and not come to the table because he said, from the bedroom, real loud, that he wasnít hungry and would get something later. My mother would throw the spatula in the sink and then turn around and smile at me and tell me to at least eat my toast.
Now, at my grandmaís house, she still cooks all the same things, but for them instead. My grandpa comes to the table and laughs and says its been a long time since he got a decent meal around here, and how glad he is weíre here so that now he can get one. And my grandma looks at him, sometimes not smiling, and says, whatís the matter with your hands. Thereís lots of food in the fridge.
Anyway, this is how I live now, away from Apple Blossom Lane.
Every morning, I get up and go to private school, though next year I will transfer to the one down the street. And then they wonít have to wonder how they can afford to keep me in private school anymore. They think I canít hear them, or know what theyíre talking about. Sometimes I think it would be better to live with my dad because I know heís all alone, and doesnít have anybody to cook breakfast for him, though when I say something to my mom, she says he probably isnít all that alone and that I shouldnít worry about him.
Nobody lives in the house on Apple Blossom Lane anymore. I miss it. I think my mom does too. I just want to go home and make everything the way it was before, but I guess I canít. I guess nobody can. Not really.
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