“I’ll get the paddleboard on the rocks,” I called up to Mason. He was already halfway up the stone stairs that led up the hill. I leaped up onto the first stair, and bounded up the hill, jumping two stairs with every stride. I was overjoyed to be in Northern Michigan on Long Lake, the largest of the twenty inland lakes in Long Lake Township. My hockey teammate, Mason, had invited me up to his amazing lake house.
One day, on a Saturday afternoon . We went to the boat. The boat is parked at the bow at Newman lake. The boat is a blue and white color. The blue is a dark blue but faded.
I will never forget that encounter the intense sun, the endless horizon, the infinite shades of blue that dissolved any boundary between sky and trees. The views were like swimming into a kaleidoscope, deceptively plain "Lake Winaukee" sign on the outside, but a show of colors on the inside, waiting to shock and, mesmerize me. Those colors! Sails on the horizon covered the lake; streaks of sunlight illuminated them, the swaying wildlife creating a dance of rhythm. Beautiful, preserved life synchronizing every movement with the camp sight creating one living entity.
It was a nice summer day,July, 2014. I woke up really early, around 6 a.m. My parents had to pick up my uncle and his girlfriend because they were coming with us. It was a long drive. The drive was about two hours.
My favorite places all have one thing in common, time seems to slow down when I’m there. One such place is Sebago Lake, specifically, during sunrise. Every year my family visits Sebago one week during summer, and on the second day, my dad and I wake early to put our boat in the water. On that morning I have to get dressed in the dark. I pad downstairs, grab a box of cereal, and hustle out to the truck where my dad waits, the boat trailer hooked to the back.
“Big Lakes, get over here!’’ Locks exclaimed. “I’m coming, I just have to grab some logs for the fire.” Big Lakes said, while kneeling down next to the woven oval houses. “Okay, just hurry up.
Joshua: Our community Malcolm X festival was a yearly event at Frederick Douglass Park. Just blacks from our house every group, company, church, school, rich person, poor person and everybody who wanted to come, gathered together for a day to celebrate, being a community. I first I thought it was just a day to eat and have fun, until I started learning more about the history of our people. Sarah (mother): Good morning!
I started my life in Lino Lakes. A cute little suburban town, just north of the twin cities. The streets are lined with houses of varying sizes. My house fell in the middle, it fit my family perfectly. My house consisted of two floors, with 3 bedrooms.
The lake was cold as glacier ice, a kind of cold that pierces right through your body. It was just us and the open water. There was no one in sight. I didn’t know whether it was beads of sweat or just droplets of water dribbling down my forehead. At that moment I have realized that in life, sometimes people can make poor decisions unintentionally.
Flashback to my junior year. I sat quietly in my AP Lang class as my teacher, Mrs. Fisher, announced that the reading competition between the language arts classes called for the book count for September. She stood at the board, marker in hand, staring out expectantly at her large class. Hands shot up across the classroom, and my own nervous hand rose up to join them. Mrs. Fisher happily chalked up the small fortune of books that our class had read.
The bus ride to Pillager Lake was short and peaceful, compared to most bus rides. It was of course bumpy, but that just seems to make a bus ride funner. The ambiance of the bus felt awkward, almost alien. Like we weren't really meant to be there, or nobody wanted to be, hopefully the latter. A happier part of the ride was looking at the fall colors, which seemed to be particularly beautiful around Pillager Lake.
Your name is who you are; it’s the essence of your being. You and your name will go through thick and thin, young and old, and life and death together. You two are forever inseparable, like brother and sister, white on rice, or a fat boy and triple chocolate cake. My name happens to be Mykel. To many people I encounter in life, phonetically pronounce my name as “Michael,” “Mukal,” or even “Mah-Kawyll” by my Southern eleventh grade AP English teacher, Ms. Clawson, who always butchered my name with different pronunciations for the first two months of the quarter, and somehow managed to make it sound similar to an imitation crow call by an amateur bird caller.
that’s when I started thinking hard. My mother was with us, and I knew she didn’t want me to leave either. Even my siblings and Grandma, I didn’t want to leave behind I felt constrained I’m not going to know anyone there. What if no one likes me? What if I can’t make any new friends and I have to sit all alone at lunch every day?.
Hello! Yes I am doing well and had been travelling a lot recently. I am going to Big Bear Lake in CA this weekend with a couple friends. Time to ski! haha
D is for Dog So it all began with my mom wanting a dog that will stay small so she made a facebook status saying i want a puppy so here comes the likes and comments so people started commenting and my moms boyfriends brother had some puppies so my mom drove over to his house and she looked at them and there he was a light tan puppy he stood out from all the others because they were all black and brown so she wanted him so i got home from school and walked up stairs and there was a little dog for the longest time my mom said that we were watching him for a friend so i was like
