I woke up, got dressed, and rushed down the narrow, awkward stairs. I ran into the warmed kitchen, illuminated by the sun. Pancakes and sausage were sizzling in the brand new frying pan he bought for my mom. He talked, and I laughed, but nothing he said was funny. It was more of a nervous, I-don't-know-you laugh. He'd been gone for six months, and when you're seven years old, six months is forever.
We got into his bread truck that smelled of rust and dirty floors. We were headed for the Sussex County Fair Grounds for the annual youth fishing competition. I hatedfishing. The idea of catching a slimy, scaly fish on a hook was not appealing at all. But, I went anyway because I was going to spend time with my father, the person who I was unfamiliar with. The only reason I had to believe he was my father was because every one told me so. There was no tucking in or bedtime stories, and no "you'll always be my little girl's" spread around. On this day, for the FIRST TIME EVER, his breath smelled of hot dogs and mustard from an early lunch, not the alcohol which drenched his heart with loneliness.
I fished for half a day, catching one sunny after another. They seemed to decrease in size as the day went on. Each time I stared into the five-gallon pail leftover from a recent spackle job, I gazed at the tiny fish swimming in whirlpools, wondering how boring that must be. But every fish i caught, he smiled; he smiled at me. There wasn't any anger; it was happiness in his voice. For the first time, happiness swept him off of his feet, glowing with pride and ease.
"Pull it in now, nice and easy...almost here, almost here...you did it!" I did it. I caught the fish that just might win the competition. Although winning didn't matter to me, it mattered to him. It always did. he wanted me to win, so he could win me over; so I could be his little girl. One day out of the seven years of my life could never make me his little girl, but that day when he smiled at me he won me over for one day, because on THAT DAY he was my father for more reasons than science and blood tests.
And that day, I won the competition. I got first place, and I won a fishing pole, similar to the one I already had, but I didn't care about winning or the prizes. I cared about the feeling that came over me every time I looked at him. My father was smiling at me. He smiled the entire day, and he made me laugh. I lvoed him for that. I lovd him for not throwing a fit when i didn't catch a big fish, and I loved him for every single smile, because after that day, he had nothing left to give.
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2 comments:
Hey love! I really liked this piece. I'm going to take the easy way out and bold and underline what i liked and didn't like. I'm sorry if this technique is harder to decipher. If it is let me know and next time I'll try something different.
I woke up, got dressed, and rushed down the narrow,(I think one adj is enough. pick one of the two or choose a different one that expresses what you mean) awkward stairs. I ran into the warmed (perhaps just warm?)kitchen, illuminated by the sun. (new paragraphs?)
Pancakes and sausage were sizzling in the brand new frying pan he bought for my mom. He talked, and I laughed, but nothing he said was funny. It was more of a nervous, I-don't-know-you laugh. He'd been gone for six months, and when you're seven years old, six months is forever.
We got into his bread truck that smelled of rust(good detail) and dirty floors (but i think this detail needs to be stronger to go with the first one). We were headed for the Sussex County Fair Grounds for the annual youth fishing competition. (again new paragraph?)
I hated fishing. The idea of catching a slimy, scaly fish on a hook was not appealing at all. But, I went anyway because I was going to spend time with my father, the person who I was unfamiliar with. The only reason I had to believe he was my father was because every one told me so.(love this line) There was no tucking in or bedtime stories (perhaps less cliche examples?), and no "you'll always be my little girl's" spread (good verb choice) around. On this day, for the FIRST TIME EVER, his breath smelled of hot dogs and mustard from an early lunch, not the alcohol which drenched his heart with loneliness. (love it)
I fished for half a day, catching one sunny after another. They seemed to decrease in size as the day went on. (I don't know if it was intentional or not, but this seemed like almost an allusion to how you were feeling for the past x amount of years without him. maybe i'm crazy.) Each time I stared into the five-gallon pail leftover from a recent spackle job, I gazed at the tiny fish swimming in whirlpools, wondering how boring that (it?) must be. (paragraph?)
But every fish i caught, he smiled; he smiled (don't think the repetition here is needed) at me. There wasn't any anger; it was happiness in his voice. For the first time, happiness(better word choice? because I really like where this line is going) swept him off of his feet, glowing with pride and ease.
"Pull it in now, nice and easy...almost here, almost here...you did it!"(again, line break?)
I did it. I caught the fish that just might win the competition. Although winning didn't matter to me, it mattered to him. It always did. he wanted me to win, so he could win me over;(not sure about the repetition of "win") so I could be his little girl. One day out of the seven years of my life could never make me his little girl, but that day when he smiled at me he won me over for one day, (try rewording?)because on THAT DAY he was my father for more reasons than science and blood tests. (don't think you need the word tests)And that day, I won the competition. I got first place, and I won a fishing pole, similar to the one I already had, but I didn't care about winning or the prizes. I cared about the feeling that came over me every time I looked at him. My father was smiling at me. He smiled the entire day, and he made me laugh. I loved him for that. I loved him for not throwing a fit when i didn't catch a big fish, and I loved him for every single smile, because after that day, he had nothing left to give.
All in all I love where this piece is heading. I think if you look it over and work on your word choice, paragraph structure, etc..it will be amazing. Also, I'd like to know more about your father. Perhaps some physical description..more character description. Maybe talk about his hands. Hands can tell a lot about a person (if they're hard working, fragile, etc.)
ok. so here it is. nice job! i really liked it. i absolutely loved the line "...and when you're seven years old, six months is forever" ... wonderful ... anyway ... i agree with 'a' when she said that she would like to know more about your father. it would make the piece stronger i think. good job :)
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