Descriptive essay: Grow up!
Spending my last day with my comfortable, friendly, worn-out, faded brown couch I await for the dump truck men to arrive. I lay on the sofa and question myself as to why my mother would ever want to get rid of such a comfortable sofa. “Will the new one be the same? Will the new one be as comfortable? Will the new one be as friendly?” Were the questions running through my head non-stop. I hear a faint noise; I run outside and see a retro pick-up truck. I protect my ears from the horrible gargling rumble the engine makes. I take a look at this beautiful couch and realize that this will be the last time I see her in her natural habitat. As my eyes begin to tear my father starts pulling the sofa towards the door. These two men look like they just woke up, they wore stained wife beaters, baggy pants and look like they haven’t shaved in a while. They assist my father with this painful process. I don’t think they deserve to lay a hand on this magnificent creature, but I say nothing. They finally manage to drag her out the door and on to the dirty south Philly sidewalk. “How will I say goodbye?” Is the only think I’m thinking about I run inside and grab a piece of printer paper and write, “I love you” in blue ink with sloppy 3rd grade handwriting. I fold the paper hot dog style and slip it under a cushion. They haul her into the truck and drive away, I take one last look but the smoke from the exhaust covers her. My eyes start to tear again, but I realize this was a good goodbye.
I got so attached I called it “her”, I got way too attached to this piece of furniture. I wouldn’t just get attached to furniture; I also got attached to toys. It’s worse then it sounds, I wouldn’t give them up (like any other kid) but I would continue playing with them. I remember I had a toy pony that was a life size miniature-rocking pony that I got when I was 3.
She is beautiful. She is a shiny, light grown plastic pony. Hair light blonde plastic smooth hair shines in the light, she as tall as me (including her springs). Although she is cold, she warms my heart. I could play all day with her. The best thing about her is her name…Peaches. I don’t know how I came up with that name, maybe because I like the fruit, but she had no resemblance of a peach. Anyway, we were in the backyard on a mission to go to the moon. “Aren’t you a tad to old to be playing with her?” My mother snarls at me. “No, she is my best friend and we’re going to grow old together!” I respond in a high-pitched voice, I knew what my mother was thinking. Today is Wednesday and trash night is Thursday, so if I can get her to separate from that thing then we can finally get rid of it. I decide to play with peaches all day long, threw dinner, and right up to bedtime. My mom asks me “When do you think you’ll be ready to say goodbye?” “Never” I respond quickly. At that point in time I realize at some point I’ll have to give her up, I might as well get rid Peaches now before it’s too late. As my father drags my best friend out of the yard and into the alleyway, I think to myself whether I’m ready to give her up. “You ready kid?” My father asks me, unsurely if he should give her to goodwill. “Yeah, I’m a big girl.” I now look back and realize that maybe Peaches was found in goodwill by some other little kid, brought home, and gave that kid a good memory or two. I also realized I had to grow up sometime, not all at once, but this felt like a good start.
I think that was a good time to grow up. I was eight when I gave up peaches, not too young not too old. She really helped me move on, I realized mature people don’t play with rocking horses. Everyone still has a little bit of kid in them but when I reflect on that, I realize that’s ok. I feel more mature everyday, but my comfy couch and peaches the pony will always be in my heart.
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