There is a flat stretch of blacktop out in front of me. There are signs on either side of the road for the D.O.T station, speed limit, and business' around town. The cars speed by going at least ten over the speed limit, always. There is no side walk, only a break down lane. I don't like to walk here but I have no choice at least for a while until I reach one of the side roads branching off. Normally, I run on my road instead of walking. I hate running on it because it is very busy and I feel like everyone and their brother that passes by is staring at me to see who I am. However, I only think this because I do it to others when they are running so it would only make sense that someone else must do it too.
I don't feel at home here. Once I leave my driveway there is nothing that draws me in or gives me a feeling that I am where I belong. If I died and went to heaven I would hope i wouldn't live on such a bore of a street. Although my road doesn't provide me the feelings I would like it to, there is a side road I love to run on just down the street from my house.
When I run, I use it as a time to clear my head and to take in the beauty of the scenes around me. It is so much better and safer to run on than the busy street I live on. Everything is so peaceful, and mostly quite besides the house a ways down on the right with the two Great Danes that like to bark at passerby's. I like to run down to the little stream where I stop to take a break. It is gorgeous. The green colors of the foliage, the moss on the tree's hanging over the water, the pebbles at the bottom, and the old bobber hanging in the tree from fishermen in years past. It's the little things that please me and make me feel at peace.
This stream and other things I pass while on this street, like the color of the leaves, the old hunters tape on the trees, the four-wheeling trails, and the calmness of the road reminds me of the street I grew up on before I moved here. That place is home in my mind, and when I come down to this place it brings me back there. It may not be my actual road, or exactly like the one I grew up on but it's nice to feel content just for a moment when I am here.
Yikes--break into multiple grafs with this much material.
ReplyDeleteWeek 11 is about trying to say a lot with a little, about trying to suggest without too much authorial direction. So, words like 'gorgeous' or 'peaceful' or 'calmness' and so on force the reader instead of persuading the reader.
I'll give you a sample of the kind of changes you might have made. Here's a cut-down version of a few lines:
The green colors of the foliage, the moss on the tree's hanging over the water, the pebbles at the bottom, and the old bobber hanging in the tree from fishermen in years past... the little things. This stream and other things I pass while on this street, like the color of the leaves, the old hunters tape on the trees, the four-wheeling trails reminds me of the street I grew up on before I moved here.
Should I do some what of a rewrite for this one? well re-wording I guess. I'm a little behind in my responses to you!
ReplyDelete