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Collaborative Story by Daniel Hawkins and Krista Leonard, but I (Daniel) edited it a bit.

January 4, 2011 hawkinsd Blog

← “Can Graphic Design Make You Cry?” Response

I took a deep breath of the fresh Tuesday morning air as I strolled up the small hill behind my house. Finding the best spot on the hill, I laid out the colorful quilt my grandmother had made for me many years ago. I set the basket I was carrying beside the quilt and began pulling out the contents. In the process of unpacking the basket, I took a moment to look around and take in the wonders of our small hill.

For a moment, I thought I could see grandma stooping down by the old willow tree and reaching out to scoop me into her caring arms once more. Beyond the willow tree at the base of the hill stood the remains of an old house where my friends and I would play as kids. It was a wonderfully curious house. And old, too. Older than even me – according to Grandma, at least.

I was pulled out of my daydreaming by the teasing sound of my brother’s voice.

“I hope you remembered the jam this time, Jess.”

I gave him a sideways glance. He smiled that annoying little smile of his, the kind of smile that would make you want to slap him upside the head. I tried that once, but Aunt Susan always takes his side.

“Of course I remembered it, Sam,” I said defiantly while simultaneously reaching into the basket. After feeling around for few seconds, I felt the blood start rushing to my face.

Sam snickered and turned his head toward the old willow. “I should have guessed you forget, always daydreaming about the past.”

My face was flush red. My fist was beginning to tighten into a ball inside the basket when I suddenly heard a loud boom in the distance. Thunder. Sam’s smirk quickly vanished.

“We b–better head back inside, I think,” Sam said with a stammer. He jerked up off the quilt and started down the hill with the basket. Noticing that I was not following, he glanced back at me.

“Jess?”

“I’m coming. Go ahead.” Sam turned and ran down the hill toward the house where Aunt Susan stood looking out the window. The clouds began to thicken as I carefully folded Grandma’s quilt. As I turned to follow my brother, I glanced once more at the old willow and saw Grandma waving goodbye.

I waved back.

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