Best Times Essay

The best time in my life is not so much one memory, but a collection of memories about one person. I only vaguely remember them, but I know them enough to know they are most definitely the happiest time in my life.
What I have of him is so precious to me. I haven't seen him in almost ten years, and all I have are vague, shadowed memories. Every time I see a box of Fruity Pebbles, I can't deny the urge to grin as wide as my lips will allow. In that moment, I am no longer in the store. Instead, I am back in time, to when I was only about four. I'm with my mother, at Chris' apartment. He was the first father figure I ever had. I remember him going to the cupboard in his cramped living space and bringing to me a box of cereal. I had never before eaten Fruity Pebbles and after that first bowl, I would forever love them. They still hold a sense of comfort for me. I recall him always playfully complaining that I ate them all but I don't think he ever really minded.
I also remember another specific moment when my mom, Chris, and I went to his parent's house to build a cat-house for my grandma's cat Lucy. After the house was finished, there was extra wood and nails and being the toddler I was, I wanted to make something all by myself. And, as expected, it turned out horribly deformed and looking like nothing useful but I was proud nonetheless. After it was dark and we were still there, it was close to my bedtime so my mother took me downstairsand I layed down on the couch. My mom covered me up and I can remember falling asleep staring at a painting of wolves on the wall, and listening to the sound of my mother's voice as she sang my lullaby.
There were many more experiences, I'm positive but unfortunately I can remember but one more. There was a computer in Chris' apartment and he had a Sesame Street coloring game. I loved that game, but everything I painted had to be either black or purple. I'm not sure why black, but it had to be purple because that was my favorite color when I was little. One last thing to thank him for is that now, ten years later, I can't brush my teeth without first putting water on my toothbrush.
I've found that the happiest times of our lives often come from the childish ignorance we are blessed to have when so little. Everything is new to you and you can hardly find a fault in the world. Your family is the best thing you have and everyone you meet can be a new friend. I've also found that you never know how much time you have and you need to always cherish your loved ones.

Writing Territories 2

Moonstone Beach Motel (Top and Bottom)

The beach is a beautiful place. Lucky for me, my grandparents take me and my cousin on Spring Break every year. In April, we drive down to Ocean Shores with our dog, Ali, and stay at the Moonstone Beach Motel. Thinking about it brings back the memories of freezing waves, grass as high as your shoulder, and sand wet from the tides. Every year is a torturous wait until we return.

The whole drive down to the beach, Brenda and I manage to keep up an endless chatter about the sights we see every time we go. What’s new, what’s still there, and what’s gone. While the chatter does sometimes turn to bickering, neither of us can deny our excitement to finally get there. We’ve been waiting since we left last year to come back again. In some ways, the beach is more a home to us than our real one. We always stay in the same cabin in our favorite motel. I can only remember two times when we haven’t stayed at Moonstone Beach Motel. Once when we stayed in my grandparent’s RV and the other time when we stayed at Moclips Motel.

As soon as the Durango is parked, Brenda and I dash out and open the hatch to let Ali out and start unpacking. First comes out the luggage, then food, and our electronics or toys last. Brenda and I share the smaller bedroom and my grandpa plugs in the small TV so that we can watch movies when we’re bored or can’t go outside. The minute everything is inside, Brenda and I start to beg to go on the beach. But, like every year, Grammy and Grandpa say they’re too tired from the drive, and we’ll go first thing in the morning after breakfast.

Anxious for morning, both of us stay up late talking in our bed about what we’re going to do first in the morning. It takes several hours until we’re tired enough to sleep, but we manage. As soon as we wake up, both of us grab our clothes from the dresser and race to the bathroom. Winner gets to change first. When we both have our clothes and swimsuits on, we eat breakfast as fast as we can and wait for our grandparents to get ready and take the dog. At last, we leave for the waves and sand. We run screaming and laughing onto the beach and then throw ourselves onto the sand. This is what we’ve been waiting for.

For the next three days, we play in the sand, hide behind enormous driftwood logs, attempt to catch hypothermia in the water, and creep around in the grass behind our motel. Of course, Grammy worries about us every minute unless we’re a foot in front of her, but she trusts us. Exhausted after three days of non-stop play, we sluggishly pack up the Durango and get ready to leave. Before we get in the car, we wave goodbye to the motel until next year and take one last whiff of salty ocean air.

Waiting an entire year to visit my favorite place again seems like the worst possible torture I could imagine. But for the three days that I am there; it’s pure bliss. There’s nothing better than spending time with loved ones in a familiar place. And I never want it to end.