I"m glad I"m leaving you for college." With immense anger and rage, I slam the door completely shut, not letting even the slightest air remain in or escape. With tears of frustration sliding from my red eyes, I head out onto the right of Terrace Avenue, passing four of the vast blocks ahead of me. Finally, my destination's achieved and along side the chain of familiar present houses, lives the long forgotten house, isolated from the community as well as the environment.
Upon approaching the empty home, I hesitate for a few moments, just admiring the scenery. It seems to be like any demolished residence: smashed windows, shingles falling from the roof, and concrete being chipped off from the porch. The once red colored vinyl sidings of the house are now rotten and fading away with the inevitable arrival of time. As I walk onto the yard, I furtively hide into the back of the house, reassuring myself I"m not seen as an unknown stranger. .
I walk closer and closer to the center of the yard, searching for the one thing in mind. Between two enormous oak trees is the swing at rest. It looks so alone, almost deserted from the world. Yet, everything's there, but just not seen. The breeze has softly pressed against my lips, feeling the cool wind pass by and on top of the big trees are young fledglings chirping, getting ready to migrate towards the south. .
Still feeling guilty and depressed, I quietly take a seat on the swing, not wanting to disturb the silence around and begin to reminisce the past. I remember the simple misplace of my notebook becoming into a full-size war with my mother. Suddenly, my brainless comment on leaving, rewinds over and over in my mind, leaving me with only sorrow and regret. For hours, I do nothing but soar through the sky, forgetting all that was said or done. I swing harder, kicking outward while leaning back against the will of the ropes in my hands, causing me to climb higher.