One of the first essays I wrote for my senior English class, it helped me remember my past enjoyments in Texas and whenever I read it I am still moved.  



    It was time. I carefully looked at my clock sitting above the TV to check one more time. *Quarter to six. As soon as the realization came to me I set down the controller to my Playstation and stood up from my bean bag chair. I had to hurry, it would be over before I got there if a dawdled around like I was. I sprinted out from the house and peered off my left to the western sky. My clock was hanging low in the sky, I knew it would be a close call if I tried to do it like olden times. I looked ahead at my little green car just sitting there facing me. Half of it was glowing a bright forest green, the other half was a shadowy darkness. *Conflict time. I had to make a decision fast. If I took my car I could be there in less than two minutes, but that would ruin the entire effect. I was doing this for my own memories, to relive a time that I missed, *a time sans a personal car. There, that ended that conflict. I broke into a dead sprint, a flight of fury from my house. It was going to be like old times, I would make it so. I ran north through what use to be an open field. Too bad now there was a house there with a nice backyard; a backyard which was preceded by my three favorite peach trees which were savagely cut down. No time for "backyard reminisces", I had to run three blocks up hill to get to my destination. As that last thought crossed my mind I cleared the second fence of the backyard-which-should-have-never-been, my mind set straight for my goal. I ran as fast as I could, dashing across 6th Street with no regard for traffic (there had never been any before. Halfway between 6th and 7th Street my calves were starting to show pain from my rapid ascent. *But I couldn't stop now, not now, not when I was this close to my memories. I ran across 7th Street dodging the east-bound traffic that was heading for Main Street. This was it, the final block. The terrain changed as I went higher and higher, it started looking less like a suburban area and more like a calm desert. Finally I passed the last house, the "Doberman Pinscher house". The only difference now was that my mortal enemy of many years was long dead and buried with his dog bone. The paved ground changed into a rocky dusted road beneath my feet. In fact, the road itself turned more into a cul-de-sac; but no houses rested on this cul-de-sac, just one large water tower bearing the name "Weatherford". I finished heading north on the street and came to a hidden path that bent around the jagged cliff that had appeared when the road changed to dirt. Winded, I bounced up the rocky terrain, realizing how each sharp rock looked less menacing than they had before. Of course this time I was twelve inches further from them than I had been. The hidden path ended its rocky curve facing south. This was the final stretch. Cacti appeared on both sides of me, and as I looked to my left, the giant cliff separated me from the cul-de-sac I had just left. That cliff which had challenged my climbing skills for years didn't seem so high now as it use to, but it seemed to have aged and shrunken. Twenty more feet and I was there. My rocky path ended at the southern end of the cliff, which now looked liked a steep hill. I looked down and saw the "Doberman Pinscher house" below me, wishing that I could stare my foe again in the eyes and tempt both fate and the strength of that chain link fence. I peered off my left once again to the western sky. My clock had reached its destination too. The western sky grew brilliantly red and the ground beneath it had turn dreadfully black. I surveyed my surroundings. This had been my "escape spot" for years. From my vantage point I could see the entire city. I was two-hundred feet above the courthouse and I felt like the king of it all. One by one I watched the cities lights appear in the south, they almost looked like fireflies. I saw my church's steeple, the lights at the high school stadium, the college overlooking the high school, and finally, the silhouette of the McDonalds sign which was 6 miles away on the southern-most end of the city. The city looked different from this view. Instead off looking like an urban hometown, it looked more like a forest trapped by forests. The only man-made things that stuck out were the four major structures I described earlier. Finally I looked off to the east, and watched the hills as they transformed from tree havens to grasslands. My humble little burg resided on the edge the North Texas Forests and the Great Plains of North Texas. On one hill hundreds of trees took root, and on the very next one grasses waved in the gentle breeze. And in a matter a minutes they looked absolutely the same. A calm shadow engulfed the entire region ending the brilliant light how I had come to see. This would be my final show, in a day I would be packing to lead a new life in a far off place. A place where the leaves never fell from the trees, and where the hills were now called mountains. Soon my clock disappeared behind the horizon for good and I was transformed into an eight-year-old kid again. A child who was testing the limits of his new bike, and the limits of his imagination. The sky above this child glowed a dark purple, and to the east it faded into a bright green horizon; a horizon lit up with the brilliant neon lights of the metropolis thirty miles away. Eight years later nothing had changed except the distance of that child's head from the ground. Slowly I turned around and started my long descent to 5th Street. Nature's final performance had come to an memory-invoking end, and now it was time for an artificial performance to restart on my Playstation. A performance which could never live up to the one which had sustained a child's interest for as long as his feet could touch the pedals. 

*Side note, on April 8th 2000, I traveled back to Weatherford to my special hill and stayed there after prom for a good hour, it brought just as many memories as this letter did.... *tear rolls down cheek*

I still have more essays...