This I Believe Essay
Julia Seavey
ENG 100
This I Believe Draft #1
Due: 2/27/14
A Summer of Sibling Games
"Gregory," I call out, annoyance touching my tone, "dad told us that we aren't allowed to stand on there. Get down."
My older brother breaks his focus on the rock in front of him for a second to glance at me, his carefree smile brightened by the shimmering summer sun; "Relax, he's not even here to see. It's fine!"
I open my mouth to respond but stop short as he turns away, straining from his spot on the cement wall to reach the stone below. My eyes dart to the large muddy rock his hands are reaching for before I look away, groaning silently to myself. A few strands of long, light brown hair fall in my face but I don't move to push them away, despite the tickle that bothers my nose. I'm quickly distracted by the dust fluttering in the breeze, and I swat at it quickly, attempting to catch it. Quickly bored by that I glance down and notice the light musty coat of dust that has blanketed my clothes. Wiping my forehead of sweat I crouch down to scoop up a large-looking rock when I hear the snapping of twigs to my right. Before I know what's going on I find myself pressed by the stomach against the wall, the air rushing out of my small lungs. My arm is stretched out in front of me, my fingers tightly gripping my brother's hand as he dangles on the other side of the wall. Through this commotion I see the creek rushing below us, still rippling from the last thrown rock. My mind still in a hazy buzz, I press one foot at the base of the wall, my free hand gripping at the top, and I pull him. He's soon over the wall again, and we're both panting. My limbs begin to shake as the realization hits me, but it isn't until I see my brother's legs that I let out a horrified shriek; my eyes meet with dirty, bloody, cut up flesh. The afternoon chatter of bugs and birds in the summer hushes against my screams. A moment later my dad is by our side, a look of confusion on his face. I quiet down and look at him as he stares at my brother, his face morphing from confusion to a weird calm. Without a word to me he places his hand square on my brother's back and leads him away, their chatter illegible to me. It isn't until they're halfway gone that I snap into attention, understanding what just happened, and with a strange sense of pride and joy I dart after them.
This is just a story that has shaped one of my strongest beliefs. I believe in siblings. Whether they're blood related or someone given that title in an honorary sense, they're the people that make you act the fastest, and they make you feel emotions the strongest. Even when you feel annoyed by them, you'd do anything to help them. This is a story that I never forget, and that always reminds me that there is almost nothing more precious to me than my feelings for my siblings.
My older brother breaks his focus on the rock in front of him for a second to glance at me, his carefree smile brightened by the shimmering summer sun; "Relax, he's not even here to see. It's fine!"
I open my mouth to respond but stop short as he turns away, straining from his spot on the cement wall to reach the stone below. My eyes dart to the large muddy rock his hands are reaching for before I look away, groaning silently to myself. A few strands of long, light brown hair fall in my face but I don't move to push them away, despite the tickle that bothers my nose. I'm quickly distracted by the dust fluttering in the breeze, and I swat at it quickly, attempting to catch it. Quickly bored by that I glance down and notice the light musty coat of dust that has blanketed my clothes. Wiping my forehead of sweat I crouch down to scoop up a large-looking rock when I hear the snapping of twigs to my right. Before I know what's going on I find myself pressed by the stomach against the wall, the air rushing out of my small lungs. My arm is stretched out in front of me, my fingers tightly gripping my brother's hand as he dangles on the other side of the wall. Through this commotion I see the creek rushing below us, still rippling from the last thrown rock. My mind still in a hazy buzz, I press one foot at the base of the wall, my free hand gripping at the top, and I pull him. He's soon over the wall again, and we're both panting. My limbs begin to shake as the realization hits me, but it isn't until I see my brother's legs that I let out a horrified shriek; my eyes meet with dirty, bloody, cut up flesh. The afternoon chatter of bugs and birds in the summer hushes against my screams. A moment later my dad is by our side, a look of confusion on his face. I quiet down and look at him as he stares at my brother, his face morphing from confusion to a weird calm. Without a word to me he places his hand square on my brother's back and leads him away, their chatter illegible to me. It isn't until they're halfway gone that I snap into attention, understanding what just happened, and with a strange sense of pride and joy I dart after them.
This is just a story that has shaped one of my strongest beliefs. I believe in siblings. Whether they're blood related or someone given that title in an honorary sense, they're the people that make you act the fastest, and they make you feel emotions the strongest. Even when you feel annoyed by them, you'd do anything to help them. This is a story that I never forget, and that always reminds me that there is almost nothing more precious to me than my feelings for my siblings.