To be honest, I had no idea what I was doing when I started this. After so much thinking, I decided I would compare the bond between patience and impatience to fire and marshmallows. I think I worked pretty well. This essay is one of the most descriptive one I wrote, and I'm proud of that. However, I feel weird that I almost hit 1000 words. For the future, I'm going to try to be as descriptive as possible and not go overboard.
From the Fiery Depths of Impatience
As a kid in elementary school, dismissal time was always something to look forward. I could never wait to go home, make a snack, and play on my phone or sleep before doing my homework. Well, maybe not the homework, but everything else was enough to keep me anxiously waiting for the clock to strike 4. However, there was always one thing I had to go through before I could enjoy my afternoon.
My friends and I would always stand outside the door to the school as we waited for our rides to come pick us up. Until then, we’d always talk about simple things, Pokemon, games, how mean our teachers were, whatever what was on our minds. One by one my friends waved their goodbyes as they got into their parents’ cars and drove off. I’d always have to wait a little longer to get picked up. My dad was always either upstairs talking with teachers or on his way here. He was usually upstairs. He collected my two brothers and I and we walked out to Cubit (One of the cars we had was a Nissan Cube).
The car ride ride home was always something I truly dreaded. It was the time where my dad took the opportunity to ask me about my day. He always wanted to know everything about everything! “How was your day?” “Did you say hi to John?” “Did you see Mr. Sheehan today?” “Do you do your homework?” “Did you turn it in?” “When?” “Did you eat your lunch?” “What was it?” “Did you like it?” It drove me crazy. My impatience kicked in immediately.
I wanted to get these questions over with as soon as possible; the car ride home was valuable sleeping time. Quickly, I answered yes or no to every question my dad bombarded me with. “Yes. No. No. Yes. Yes. Yes.” The fire of impatience was burning inside me. Rage was building and I tried my best to hide it, only hinting at it through my tone. I wanted desperately to get the questions over with. When my dad was finally done, I was too annoyed to hide it. “Stop asking me questions,” I said, and turned over in my seat. My impatience always go the best of me.
I see patience as a fluffy little marshmallow. Sweet and innocent, not trying to hurt anyone. However, right below it is a huge fire. A big, roaring flame. This flame gets stronger whenever my impatience begins to grow. Soon, it gets stronger and begins to singe and burn the cute little marshmallow on top. And when that marshmallow finally melts, I lose it, as I did on the drive home.
That fire is impatience.
On one hand, my impatience has a negative effect on me, but on the other hand, it can be slightly helpful. Ever since I was a kid, I always felt the need to complete things quickly. As one of my favorite video game characters put it, you always “gotta go fast.” So an upside to being impatient as that it helps you do things quicker, which in a way benefits me. It really makes you think about the final product. It’s kinda like a “I gotta hurry up and finish this so the final part looks nice” situation. Though “fast” and “neat” don’t always go hand in hand.
“Marshmallows!” my little brother cried, smiling with glee. My dad grabbed the bag of marshmallows from the kitchen pantry. My brothers and I look on with glee and excitement as he walked back to the stone fireplace where we sat. He removed the metal grid from in front of the fireplace. “Light the wood.” He handed his match to me. I slowly moved my trembling hand into the gap where the old but only slightly charred wood lay. I remember it taking many attempts for me to successfully scratch the wood.
I pulled back as a roaring orange flame rose from the wood, almost burning my hand. Heat and the smell of smoke filled the area. I shrieked a little at the sight, but my father reassured me, congratulating me for lighting the fire. He then motioned my brother to open up the bag of marshmallows. Being the young hungry kids we were, we immediately grabbed a few and quickly ate them up. “Stop! I told you not to eat them!” Dad snatched the bag away. “Y’all some hungry kids. You can wait until we cook the marshmallows.”
We ran and got got the wooden skewers from the back; the fire was slowly dying. I quickly grabbed a skewer and shoved two marshmallows onto it, then put it over the fire. “Let it sit above the fire and turn it. Wait until it’s brown,” my dad guided me. I waited five seconds. Then ten. Then fifteen. Then thirty. Nothing happened. I was getting very impatient, the fire inside me only getting stronger. My marshmallows fell victim to it, both literally and figuratively.
So I was stuck with two burnt marshmallows, looking in sadness as my brothers happily enjoyed their semi-cooked treats. I need to try again, I thought, this isn’t fair. I crawled over to the marshmallow bag only to find that it was completely empty. Looks like my brothers and I ate more than we thought. I had no other choice. I moved the charred marshmallows closer to my mouth and slowly took a bite. Aside from burning my mouth, the melted marshmallows tasted weird to me. This taste was completely new to me.
So even impatience has its upsides, as I found out that day. Like fear freezes you, impatience burns you. I guess I’ll be stuck with it forever, not that I really regret it. This emotion can be good; it helps me to act fast and work faster. Sometimes the worst misfortunes in our lives can lead to our rise in the world.