[It is the time of year for school conferences with the kids' teachers. We brought home a folder of "I's" work from her teacher. Included in the folder was this creative writing assignment. We asked "I" if she wanted to post it as is, and she asked that any spelling mistakes be changed as it was done in class. So here it is. Enjoy. ~ the proud parents]
I amble onto the deck, almost slipping because of the salty sea spray. My family and I are sailing home from a three week vacation in the San Juans.
I walk toward the bowsprit,* in my blue and black life jacket which is on top of my thick brown coat.
Popping my head under our two stacking dinghies,** Pippi and Longstocking, I try to see if my calico cat, K....., has gotten out yet. This is a hard task with my wet glasses. K..... hides here when the motor turns on. It's been off for almost an hour, but when I locate her, she's still there, puffed up, looking cold!
Leaving, I step onto our wooden bowsprit, holding the slippery rail. Here, the cold bites with its icy jaws, not letting go. Turning, I watch the bow waves explode and dissipate, explode and dissipate. The foam has a resemblance of whipped cream and soap! It's very very frothy.
I glance up at the sails, the wild wind filling them. Taking out my camera, I capture three pictures. One of them has bad lighting, the other has the wrong angle, but the last one is "picture perfect."
Looking up from my camera, which I struggle to put away, I notice Dad walking toward me in his unmistakable bright yellow rain slicker. I come over to meet him. "Cold up there?" he asks. "Oh, yes." I reply.
We go back to the cockpit where Mom's at the tiller. As I duck under the dodger*** I realize that my toes are as red as the emergency backpack for school fire-drills. Even though it's late July, I'm freezing.
I go inside and start to make hot chocolate. My sister, M...., asks "Has K..... come out yet?" "Not that I know of." I respond, stirring my hot beverage with a metal spoon.
I go outside with my boiling mahogany cocoa and sit down on the driest spot I can find in the cockpit.
It's just another day coming home from the islands but sailing, to me, is special no matter how many times I've done it before or how many times I'll do it again.
____
* Bowsprit is at the very bow of the boat, normally where a figurehead is. I don't have a figurehead.
** Small boat normally used to go to shore, you can have ones you row or that have a motor.
***Cover on the cockpit.
Sailing
A School Creative Writing Project
by "I"
I amble onto the deck, almost slipping because of the salty sea spray. My family and I are sailing home from a three week vacation in the San Juans.
I walk toward the bowsprit,* in my blue and black life jacket which is on top of my thick brown coat.
Popping my head under our two stacking dinghies,** Pippi and Longstocking, I try to see if my calico cat, K....., has gotten out yet. This is a hard task with my wet glasses. K..... hides here when the motor turns on. It's been off for almost an hour, but when I locate her, she's still there, puffed up, looking cold!
Leaving, I step onto our wooden bowsprit, holding the slippery rail. Here, the cold bites with its icy jaws, not letting go. Turning, I watch the bow waves explode and dissipate, explode and dissipate. The foam has a resemblance of whipped cream and soap! It's very very frothy.
I glance up at the sails, the wild wind filling them. Taking out my camera, I capture three pictures. One of them has bad lighting, the other has the wrong angle, but the last one is "picture perfect."
Looking up from my camera, which I struggle to put away, I notice Dad walking toward me in his unmistakable bright yellow rain slicker. I come over to meet him. "Cold up there?" he asks. "Oh, yes." I reply.
We go back to the cockpit where Mom's at the tiller. As I duck under the dodger*** I realize that my toes are as red as the emergency backpack for school fire-drills. Even though it's late July, I'm freezing.
I go inside and start to make hot chocolate. My sister, M...., asks "Has K..... come out yet?" "Not that I know of." I respond, stirring my hot beverage with a metal spoon.
I go outside with my boiling mahogany cocoa and sit down on the driest spot I can find in the cockpit.
It's just another day coming home from the islands but sailing, to me, is special no matter how many times I've done it before or how many times I'll do it again.
____
* Bowsprit is at the very bow of the boat, normally where a figurehead is. I don't have a figurehead.
** Small boat normally used to go to shore, you can have ones you row or that have a motor.
***Cover on the cockpit.
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