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Sophie Harrison
Ms. Turner
Concurrent English
29 September 2016
A Slammed Door
When I was young, I lived in a cabin-style house tucked into the side of a forested
canyon miles away from the rest of the world. The home was surrounded by thick forest
greenery. A creek trailed down the side of a long dirt road; winding through the canyon in a
tunnel of trees. In spring, the forest was full of life: the collective hum of a thousand
hummingbirds wings swarming around a red feeder; the rustle of small creatures hiding from a
curious four year-old within the foliage; the wandering moose that often visited our backyard
whom I lovingly named Lucy. I was often outside catching small creatures, hiking through the
trees, picking bouquets of brilliant wildflowers, planting pumpkins for the fall with my family.
My mother always kept a watchful eye on my curious self. This was my beautiful forest.
I stumbled through the brush in my small lady-bug crocs clutching my mothers hand so
as to not topple over. Every so often wed stop to catch small garden snakes or tiny lizards with
bellies as blue as the sky. She carefully placed the animal into my small hands and reminded me
to be gentle with the creature. I grasped it in my clasped hands and stroked it with my thumb.
I still remember the feeling of the smooth garden snake softly coiling itself around my tiny
wrist. I remember my mother, the sun shining through her long beautiful hair, beaming at me. I
remember the leaves quivering in the slight evening breeze. Hearing the familiar sound of
gravel shifting beneath someones shoes, I turned to find my father hiking up the trail. I ran

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over to where he stood and showed him the wonderful creature my mother and I had found.
He smiled at me, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges, and kissed my forehead. Together, we
made our way back home.
One evening, I was sitting in the living room playing happily with my toys. I overheard
my mother talking. We cant do this any longer. Sophia is growing up. Shes becoming more
involved in her sports & social life and on top of that, a baby is on the way. With you being at
work all the time, I wont be able to drive her down to the city and give the new baby the
attention it needs. We need to move. I froze. My heartbeat began to pound in my chest. I
remember thinking, Dadll never agree. This is our home... We cant move.
Yes, we should move. That would probably be for the best.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I couldnt breathe.

I was packing up the last of my stuffed animals into a cardboard box, all my other
belongings packed away into similar boxes. My room felt different. It felt as if the room was sad
I was leaving. I picked up the box and carried it down the hall out into the living room. My home
was empty, devoid of everything I knew. I looked around, remembering all the things I loved
about my life, my home. I glanced over to where a small couch once stood. There, my mother
had sat and comforted me when I was terribly sick; her warm arms wrapped around me,
holding me tight while I slept. I saw the vacant space where a coffee table once was. At that
small glass table, my father and I would play games for hours and hours. There I stood, in the
center of my empty living room holding a box filled with the last of our belongings, getting
ready to leave the only home Id ever known. I dropped the box to the ground. It landed with a

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terrible crash, a lone toy rolling out into the center of the empty room. Why? I thought. Why
are we leaving? I dont want to leave. We cant leave! This is my forest, my garden, my house. I
didnt understand why mom and dad would do this to me Its not fair. My mind was racing. I
stared at the toy in the center of what used to be our living room. I reached down, picked up
the box from where it had fallen, and walked silently through the open front-door. A tear
streaked my face as I shut the door to my home for the last time. The toy, an item I once
beloved, was left sitting in the middle of the floor.
I walked down the worn wooden stairs that lead to our driveway, the box heavy in my
arms. I brought the box to the back of the Land Rover where my father was standing waiting for
me. He lifted it into the car, and helped me into the backseat. I wouldnt look at him. Not after
what hed done, what hed agreed to. Looking through the window, I saw the hummingbirds
swarm around my house, searching for a small red feeder that was locked away within a box. I
saw the trees I would never again venture into, the garden of vegetables that I would never see
grow. The car started down the hill, and as I watched, home faded into the distance.

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