An essay I wrote for english.. I wanted to share a different one with you, but it isn't on this computer. I hope you like it. :)
Rockin' C Ranch
The first thing to do was to get there. My daddy was driving. As the contents of my uneasy stomach did a dance inside of me, I chomped nervously on the cobaltic gum in my mouth. Through the truck’s speakers came the soothing sound of David Wilcox singing of waltzing high school chains away and I wanted to stay in the homelike car with the comfort of Daddy and David forever.
I’d eagerly signed up for the job most people immediately rejected, and it began to feel like a bad idea. A part of me thought ostentatiously about being the selfless, sacrificial one to give up my time and go slave for fourteen days. That wasn't extremely comforting, seeing as I worked to suppress the rising of those unwelcome thoughts.
The seemingly endless drive was nearly over. Brightly colored signs directing my melancholy thoughts to our long awaited destination told me Rockin' C Ranch was steadily approaching. Many treasured summers had been spent at this working ranch camp. Joy-filled memories of insanely tedious horse rides and the elation I always felt while flying speedily through the air on the intimidatingly gargantuan zip-line ran to the front of my mind and nostalgia won the race against other feelings.
Suddenly, the car was jostling roughly over a cattle guard into the ranch and my anxious pessimism changed immediately to joyful excitement. Horses standing at liberty were contentedly eating in a field of lush, green, grass. What bliss they must've been experiencing, free from human demands for a quickly passing twenty-four hours. All of the annoyingly energetic cowboys were giving directions, waving their arms, and smiling. My eager eyes caught sight of Janie's Lake, looking tranquil and lonely, free of campers for one short day. The blob, tarzan swing, and mini zipline all floated peacefully; silently rejoicing in their moments of aimless drifting.
As I was stepping cautiously out of my father’s white truck, two familiar people began fighting playfully over who got to bear hug me first. It was my first sight of Andrew and Marissa in many years and my anxious heart was filled with inexplicable joy as they expressed their happiness at my arrival.
My temporary home was a miniscule room above the hyper ten year-olds who provoked so much deja-vu. “Sleepless in the attic” became the humorous motto of our small group of five, seeing as every time a voice rose in the night, we heard it clearly. I was entirely skeptical about my roommates and counselor upon meeting them, but as the days went quickly by, I grew extremely close to them, gladly learning how much first impressions could be wrong.
At the beginning of this fulfilling experience, my previously sarcastic mind thought about the “joys” of kitchen duty, never imagining that there could truly be any. But interestingly enough, I did find joy in that kitchen, a joy that had nothing to do with washing dishes or frying tator-tots. It was a joy of the strong bond created while working together to feed a camp-full of children who were hungry for more than just food. It was a blessing, not only to them, but to us.
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