Sensory language

As I look around this dirty room, breezes of spring blows in through my window, bringing the scent of
the wild flowers from the fields that surround me. I sit at my desk in the far comer of my room right
under the window. The sunset tonight is one of the most beautiful sights I may have ever seen. The
colors of yellow, orange, purple, and red all wisped up into the blues of the darkling sky.

I pick up my pen and open my journal. As I begin to write I find myself in a whole new world of thought.
The smell of coffee that my mom was making in the kitchen was mixed with the sweetness of the
breakfast she was making. Outside I could hear the sounds of the sirens, the running and skipping of
children up and down the street. The laughter was so profound that even without seeing their faces I
could still see the smiles of their faces. I got up and dressed quickly and found my father in the back yard
working in our ever growing garden. I sat next to where he was working feeling the dirt run through my
fingers as I played with it while watching him work. Looking around the autumn colors were bright now.
Fall is defiantly in full bloom. I watch the leaves fall unto the perfectly even grass.

“Dad” I say.

“Yes sweet heart.” he replied.

“Can you tell me your story from up north again?” I pleaded.

Working hard and a little out of breath he asked “don’t you want to go watch the parade Hun? I hear the
sirens; they are close now.”

“I just can’t get the thought of that polar bear fighting against the crashing waves out of my mind. I
dreamed about it all night. Your words keep circling me. I feel as though there is something I am missing
from it and it is important, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

Stopping for a moment, our eyes meet. The blueness of both of our eyes seem to burn though. “I think
that you take my stories too seriously. They are not meant to be taken so. “A smile spread across his
face which made me smile too.

“Will you and mom meet me down there?” I asked

“Let me finish up.” he responded as he looked at his masterpiece with great pride.

Satisfied with his answer I brushed myself off and I ran to join the laughter.

I close my journal as I wipe the tears from my face. I still hear the crunching of the leaves in the
memories of the moments that soon followed my journal entry. I gaze back out my window the sky is
almost dark now. Maybe tomorrow I will make it through another entry. The pain is still too strong
today. I smile as the wind blows another sweet scent of spring my way. I feel peace for tonight. My mind
is free.