Fowler 1 Alyssa Fowler Ms.

Gardner English 10, Period 2 1 September 2013 Waiting for Forever The soft sounds of the waves remind me of a lullaby. Kissing the shore and returning back into the vast blue ocean, again and again. My toes sink through the warm sand and in this very moment life in its entirety is tangible and I feel alive. The town of Bodega was quiet and still. Off in the distance, past the towering rocks I spotted a white picket fence that Id never noticed before even though I walk the same route every morning. The hazy fog made it difficult to see past the fence. My curiosity took over; I had to know what was beyond it. Briefly I stopped to catch my breath once I reached my destination. The opposite side of the fence was revealed. It was like another world: undiscovered, wide open, and almost forbidden. Grass that shimmered from the fresh dew covered the majority of the land. A few wooden benches were scattered around and a massive amount of rose bushes and sunflowers guarded the perimeter of the area. To my surprise, I noticed an elderly woman was trimming one of the many rose bushes. Hello! I yelled, hoping to receive a greeting back. She stopped for a moment, turned towards me and paused as if she were confused and stared at me contently. Finally as she began to hobble closer I realized that she looked strangely familiar, as if I had seen her passing through town, in the grocery store or perhaps a dream. I kept waving eagerly.

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Hi, my name is Alyssa! These flowers are lovely! I tried to engage in conversation but all that the old lady wanted to do was examine me like I was an animal in a zoo exhibit. At this moment I was still on the opposite side of the fence. I- I cant believe this she uttered in a soft whisper. It really is you. Her words caught me off guard. Now I was the one with the puzzled look on my face. What do you mean? Have we met before? I questioned. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree and she grinned from ear to ear. Finally she broke the suspenseful silence. II am you. However, I am seventy two years old. Hearing this made my head hurt. The older version of myself noticed my struggle to process this information so she continued, Im sure that this is difficult to wrap your head around, but it is the truth. My name is Alyssa Fowler. I can prove it! I only like winter because of the holidays and Starbucks drinks, I have a passion to travel and visit Europe, and the scar on my neck has been there since I was thirteen. Surely she was lying. No body could have the same scar, the same shape, in the same place as me. I thought to myself in amazement. It was true. I was looking into the eyes of my future. So many questions and so many answers that I had yet to hear. We began to talk about the years ahead of me and the trials I would face. She was like my very own crystal ball or cheat sheet. Oddly enough, I never once stepped foot on the other side of that fence. The sun started set and I had to be back home before dark. We had only just begun and now I had to leave. I was anxious to know more so I asked if we could meet

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tomorrow around eight at the same picket fence. The older me agreed and we parted ways. The following day I woke up early and went for a run along the beach. Again I spotted the giant rocks and the blurry picket fence just past them. It was even hazier that morning. I reached the fence and scanned land in front of me. However, this time it was ordinary, indifferent, and quite dead. The flowers were wilting, the grass was brown, and the wooden benches had lost their welcoming feel. Everywhere you looked was depressing. Especially once I sat there for a couple hours and realized that the older version of me was not coming back. I turned around and breathed in that salty, cold air. I had never appreciated the simplicity of the waves so much; constant and reliable. Nothing good lasts forever. The moment I had to share knowledge and advice with someone so unique was an event to be cherished. Ever since that day, I would go on my regular route to the white picket fence, hop over, and spend my morning tending to the sunflowers and roses. I go through the same routine every morning, in the hopes of reviving the lively, majestical, ambiance that I could only compare to a dream.