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| My Summer Home | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 13 2008, 03:03 AM (144 Views) | |
| Esaul | Mar 13 2008, 03:03 AM Post #1 |
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My Summer Home Chapter One "Drew looks at me, I fake a smile so he won't see That I want an' I'm needin' everythin' that we should be I'll bet she's beautiful, that girl he talks about an' she's got everythin' that I have to live without Drew talks to me, I laugh cuz it's so damn funny That I can't even see anyone when he's with me He says he's so in love, he's finally got it right I wonder if he knows he's all I think about at night He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar The only thin' that keeps me wishin' on a wishin' star He's the song in the car I keep singin', don't know why I do Drew walks by me, can't he tell that I can't breathe? an' there he goes, so perfectly The kind of flawless I wish I could be She'd better hold him tight, an' give him all her love Look in those beautiful eyes an' know she's lucky cuz He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar The only thin' that keeps me wishin' on a wishin' star He's the song in the car I keep singin', don't know why I do So I drive home alone, as I turn out the light I'll put his picture down an' maybe get some sleep tonight He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar The only one who's got enough for me to break my heart He's the song in the car I keep singin' don't know why I do He's the time taken up, but there's never enough an' he's all that I need to fall into... Drew looks at me, I fake a smile so he won't see" I finished singing along with my CD of Taylor Swift as I cleaned my room. To me, I don't think I'm that great at singing. To others, well I wouldn't know what they would think. I only sing in the privacy of me bedroom or maybe even in the shower at times. I couldn't compare to my favorite country singers. Taylor Swift knows what she's doing and I guess I don't. Simple as that. All of the country singers I like and admire have two things in common; one of them is something I share. The thing that I don't share is their beauty. Am I beautiful? That is something I tend to ask myself on occasion. I would love to be able to have Jessica Andrews' angelic, flawless face that looks so innocent and carefree. LeAnn Rimes has the most wonderful green eyes in the world. Carrie Underwood, don't get me started on her. I would die to be able to dress as well as she does, or maybe to have her smile to say the least. A perfect figure can go a long way, which is something that Julie Roberts has that I don't. I don't worry about it as much as others do, I think mine is fine the way it is, but I wish I could have it better. The color and the way Taylor Swift's hair curls is something I can only imagine having. I always laugh at the thought of how I would look if I actually had each specific trait I liked about these five women. Honestly, I only wish I could look like that. I am happy with the way I look...at times. I have a face, I think, that is close to meeting the standards of "flawless". Tiny freckles are hardly visible on my face, which my mama always says it makes me look cute and adorable. LeAnn's eyes are only a fantasy compared to my brown ones which look through the glasses I'm supposed to wear when I read. I'm not really into fashion as some people are, so me not being able to dress like Carrie Underwood isn't so much of a big loss to me. I usually wear simple clothing, jeans and a tank top underneath my jean jacket. I wear the cowgirl boots too; I have about three or four pairs. My figure is not something I worry about at all; I think I'm in reasonable physical condition. My long dirty blond hair never curls; it always stays straight which I get frustrated over. wash up for breakfast, an' make sure your older brothers are up an' ready for the chores. Pa's already started. " That's my mama who so happens to be the most terrific person in the world. She does everything imaginable, to cooking all the way to cleaning and has enough time to help with the day's chores and manage to relax with the family at the end of the day. I wonder how she does it at times. I suppose it is the best if she keeps her trick hidden from the rest of the family. Maybe someday I will be able to learn it. Before leaving the bedroom, I grab my white cowgirl hat, placing it on top of my head. I never go anywhere without it. Over the years I managed to start a collection of the hats, it is sort of like my trademark. On me, right now, I am wearing my favorite hat that means the most to me. I got it from Ma and Pa last summer when I first rode a horse on my own. The only person I can be compared to really is Terri Clark, and that is because she has worn the same type of hat I wear all the time on each of her albums, at least three that I am sure of. The other thing I share in common with the five, plus Terri, is my love for country. I live and breathe it like the rest of my family. You see, we live on a large ranch in Minnesota. From what Pa says, his family's been living here for many generations and I hope that my brothers and me will continue to uphold the tradition. I could not think of living anywhere else but here. The ranch is a part of me; no one could possibly imagine what it would do to me if something ever happened to it. It's my life; it is the only thing I know, just like my Pa. My mama used to be a city girl before she met him and since then she has never stepped foot into one of those places. To tell the truth, I'm frightened by the thought of going to a city. I prefer the nice quiet outdoors free from pollution and also because of the horses. In between my room and Tim's happens to be the bathroom. From time to time, I am rushed, which I don't mind at all. It happens to be part of our daily routine, something I would never dream of changing. Tim's the first-born child in the family. Luckily, he's the easiest to wake. I stood in front of the door, it stood slightly ajar. I peek in to see if I could see Tim. I see him sitting at his desk, writing something. Probably to his gal, who he loves dearly, anyone can see that. I knock; he didn't answer. I open the door slowly, walking into the room. "Ma wants us to get ready for breakfast. After we are to start shores," I say, waiting still for him to answer. I roll my eyes and mutter whatever going back toward the door. When I start to step out of his room, I felt someone grab my waist and lift me up into the air, swinging me around. I scream in surprise when Tim sneaks up on me like that. "Mornin' sunshine." "Finishin' that letter to Samantha?" I ask when he let me down. He didn't answer as he follows me out of the room. We walk across the hall where Chad, the middle child's room was. As we open the door, I mutter something to myself as we see him still sleeping. I haven't figured out how he could be still sleeping at this hour. Everyday I am up at five in the morning preparing for school and helping out with the chores before heading out. Chad did that too, only when school was around. Me, I'm never able to sleep in like that. I'm so used to being up early. "Chad," says Tim trying to wake him up. He gestures to me, I understood what he meant. I left the room, making sure to tread lightly on the floor. I remember to take my boots off as I descend the stairs as silently as possible. Around the corner, I see Ma in the kitchen cooking relentlessly. The target happens to be only a few feet away from where she kept busy with the pancakes. I tiptoe on the kitchen floor hoping to make it unnoticed. My hand reaches out when I hear Pa cry out for Ma. Lucky for me that she went the other way out of the kitchen, so she didn't have to look back at me. I quickly open the freezer door and pull out a small handful of ice cubes. Racing back up, I didn't worry about being quiet. I pass my boots as I reenter Chad's bedroom. My hands grew numb from holding the ice cubes in my hand. I look at Tim, who started to grow impatient. "Took you forever. Ain't you able to go faster than that?" "Sorry, Ma was cooking. Pa called her so I-" "Just give 'em here," he orders. I gave him the ice cubes. He then tells me to remove the covers, which I did so obediently. Tim then places each of them on his neck. Chad almost jumps out of his bed yelling! I fought hard to contain my giggles. That didn't work so well. I flee from the room, knowing by now what will happen if I stay. "Not that again!" hollers Ma from downstairs. She never approves of our methods to wake up Chad. We've been trying to come up with more and more creative ways of waking him up, ever since the start of summer at least. Comment Thread: http://s15.zetaboards.com/xwritersdreamx/topic/6503095/ Edited by Esaul, Jun 19 2008, 12:35 AM.
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| Riss | Mar 13 2008, 03:38 AM Post #2 |
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Where we gonna go from here?
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I still love it.
*waits for Chpt. 3* |
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