Draft #2
Elvis croons sweetly of a simpler time when tender love was still alive. Some time before life began.
I used to watch the homemovies my grandfather made of my mother and her brothers as kids and cry. Horrible pangs of nostalgia for my mother 's lost peace. And something else.
They were silent but they flowed, dubbed over with Elvis songs.
I think I want to throw a stone at the sky.
The moon looks so nice tonight, nearly white and almost full
Enough to fill the gaps between the window blinds.
A couple stars sit nearby, atop some sacred river. I wonder, faintly, what lies in its bed, nestled cooly beneath such placid sheets and holy dreams.
I think I want to throw a stone and watch it miss everything.
I think I want to swim out
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Sometimes I hear his keys move, atop a desk, in the pocket of his torn camo shorts, or on either side of the door, and it 's hard to tell between footsteps on the stairs and the heartbeat in my ears.
Sometimes, though, I can hear him smile, like when I stare at the photo album of my life he made for my birthday. The best gift I ever got.
Sometimes he laughs so hard he has to hold his scarred stomach, and his eyes look warm and brown, and not as army green.
In any case I weep.
Once, on the night before Memorial Day, we ate shortcake together at a cafe in Reno.
Sometimes, in cooking class, someone will slam a dish too hard and I 'll get angry, because I swear I can hear glass breaking.
I miss everyone. The Angel in the snow globe saying May still faces the window. I once told my father this and thought I saw water in his eyes. They seemed to be searching, maybe for the stars on their surfaces that only I could see.
His mother gave it to me on our last Christmas morning.
She died on Mother 's Day.
I think I 've faced away too long. The stars float on to someone else 's frame and I can 't remember the song. The cosmic movie 's silent. The night 's growing cold.
I 'd like to spit up a stone. I think. But there 's so much water here.
I can 't
Every year it happens, so it 's not surprising that summer turns into fall. It 's inevitable because science says so, but there are some tell-tale sights, smells, sounds, and tastes that signal autumn is approaching. Here are the top 10 signs that fall is coming. Walk into a grocery store or craft store in late August and you 'll likely be greeted by the potent aroma of one of the first signs of fall: the cinnamon broom. Love 'em or hate 'em, not much smells more like fall than this bunch of twigs.
What Memorial Day Means to me by: Kensington Loving What do you think of when you think,”Memorial Day”. I know almost all the kids of the U.S. think fireworks, ice cream, candy, and a nice day on the lake. But many people are thinking of loved ones that they lost for our freedom.
1. delicious Chinese food 2. Memorial Day memories 3. fiery Southwestern Salsa 4.
“... O say does that star spangled banner yet wave, o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.” Nearly every American can recite the final lines of our National Anthem. However, few take the time to truly contemplate the meaning of these words. When I hear these phrases, I think of the principles on which our country was founded: the right to life, liberty and pursuit of happiness. But perhaps more important than these rights are the defenders of them: our veterans.
Memorial Day can be considered as one of the Federal Holidays, which is celebrated in the memory of thousands of militants who died for the country. People in every corner of United States celebrate the Memorial Day. They also consider it as a good day to stay away from the hectic work schedule and go for a good cookout. However, the primary objective of having a Memorial Day is to honor and recognize all the sacrifices that have been done by the military veterans, who are alive or dead.
On the last Monday of May, we Americans celebrate Memorial Day. To others, Memorial Day consists of a day filled with sleeping in late and grilled burgers and diving into the recently opened pools. But do they not understand the reason as to why they possess this freedom? Personally, I view Memorial Day as a day to reflect on our freedom; to remember our fallen Americans.
Who knows what this vision of the night sky must inspire each of us, in our children of
Memorial Day is a day to remember all of the brave and selfless people who gave their lives in order to serve our country. Memorial Day is filled with lots of celebration such as barbecues and parades. These celebrations are a great way to show your appreciation, but it’s super significant that we understand the meaning behind Memorial Day. Memorial Day means many things to me. Firstly, it reminds me that I should recognize all of the courageous men and women who fought for our freedom and liberty.
The novel Five Days at Memorial by Sheri Fink gives an inside view of what happened at Memorial Hospital during Hurricane Katrina (2005); a disaster inside of a disaster. The lack of preparedness or ethical decision making is quite disappointing, considering Memorial hospital is located in New Orleans, Louisiana. New Orleans is well below sea level, and experiences frequent hurricanes and flooding. Memorial hospital itself had little to no plan for evacuating patients once the storm hit. Without power, many of the patients, especially those who were ventilator dependent, became at risk of death.
In the shadows of Arlington Cemetery, the sun began to cross the tree line. As the families began to walk up the hill, they could see in the distance a few rows of chairs, placed around the front of a particular tombstone. People began to gather in the vicinity of the grave. James began to walk to the gravesite dressed in his dressed blues uniform, his medals, carefully lined up and being proudly wore on his pocket. Michael stepped up and shook James hand, and told him how sharp he looked.
"Pluto where are you?" I yelled into the darkness of the forest. The murky bullets fell to the ground fast, it as if a god from the sky was using a gun to punish me for all the sins that I had commited. the thunder clapped every time a tear ran down my cheek, as if I were a pawn in an act.
In the third stanza, Atwood says, “the song that nobody knows because anyone who has heard it is dead, and the other can’t remember” (Lines 7-9). She evokes curiousity among the audience, because they now want
It’s in his eyes and in his voice. Sitting next to your lover, husband, partner, boyfriend you’re ecstatic because he’s saying the things you want to hear. O.K. That’s just fine but now look into his eyes.
At the time of my passing I wish to be given a memorial service. I believe that itll progress the moruning I do not want my love ones to see my body. Additionally, it will cost less to have a memorial service than a funeral as the cost to transport my body back and forth is too much as well as to embalm my body. A picture of me or a picture of me with my loved ones will do just fine. As for my agent my mother, Angelica M Estrada, will follow all my wishes that I have left behind.
A few candles flickered and the living room light illuminated as much of our cozy house as it could all by itself. Bing Crosby sang White Christmas to some of his comrades. For the first time in what seemed like a long time I smiled. Really smiled. I looked to my mother, her boxes much better wrapped than my own, and said, “Mom, look.