"Tarzan Toddler" by Bruce Steppes

My first memory I can recall happened when my mom took me and my three sisters to Kings Dominion for a family day trip. While sitting in my car seat sucking on a pacifier, I was excitedly watching my six and nine year old sisters wrestle each other for their new "Bop It" toy. My oldest sister, who was eighteen at the time, was sitting in the passenger seat blasting her headphones. As a legal adult, I'm sure she had zero patience for her kid sisters. I frowned upon being confined in a car seat, but I never let a simple seat belt keep me from having fun.

I'll admit, I was a girl version of Tarzan, and the car was my jungle. I remember my mom assigning a job to one of my sisters to make sure I stayed put. I'm sure at three I tried negotiating something with whoever was in charge. Since I was the youngest of four girls, I wanted to do all the fun things my older sisters got to do. I still tried, and I was guilty of most of my escapes because I was the ultimate busy body.

I did not believe in being still, and the fact that I knew we were on our way to the theme park made my case even more severe. My mom was forced to constantly look through her rear view mirror to make sure I was in my car seat, instead of in the trunk somewhere.

After about three hours of a painful car ride, my mom pulled into the Kings Dominion parking lot. After we got situated, we headed towards the park to start the fun. Cotton candy, funnel cake, and candy apples swirled in the air, making me more excited. We had a blast riding on the amusement rides and taking pictures with kid cartoons.

Towards the end of the day, we headed to the lazy river. We got changed in our bathing suits and we each grabbed a water tube. My mom of course stoppped me in my tracks and exchanged my tube for a turtle floatie that was uncomfortably larger than I was. I wiggled my way into the river and sat there like a duck while my sisters were freely splashing around.

Even though I did not always get my way, I had a blast with my family. Overall, it was a really great day.

"The Greatest Invention" by Tom Bombadil

I was once asked, “What do you think is the greatest invention ever created?”  My first thoughts were iPods, computers, and cell phones.  Those are all amazing life-changing inventions, but then I was told to stop, take a step back, and truly think.  I could live without my computer; there is paper.  I could survive without my iPod.  I could easily communicate without a cell phone; there are house phones and a postal system. 

            My friend who asked me this question told me to go home and think.  Just think until I thought of something I could not live without.  As I lay in bed that night, one thought swirled around my brain, preventing me from drifting off into oblivion.  What is one thing that is so amazing I could not survive or would be devastating to be without?  What is that greatest invention?

            Finally, I drifted off to sleep while having the weirdest dream. 

            “All of the items have arrived, Ms. -----,” a tiny robotic voice squeaked.  -----glanced down at the little white cubic robot, and patted its head.

            “Thank you, Sandrine.  I will be there momentarily to start the show.” This was the biggest show to date.  -----stood up from her vanity, straightened her little black dress and confidently walked toward the stage for another show of “What is the Greatest Invention?”  She stepped onstage to thunderous applause and blinding white lights.  “Welcome!  Welcome to another amazing episode of “What is the Greatest Invention?”  I am your host, -----.  Now, let’s see these inventions!”  Suddenly, fifteen items were rolled onto the stage.  “We are going to start with the first item.”  With a flourish, Sarah pulled off the black cloth that covered the large, oddly shaped invention.  “A car!  Is this the greatest invention?  Are there any naysayers?”

            “Ay.  What about a horse?  A horse can easily replace a car.  They are more fuel-efficient, though slower,” a voice rang out.  ----- nodded thoughtfully and moved onto the next item.  That was how the show worked.  The host would remove the cover from each item and if there was an alternative for the item, then the invention was not the winner.           

            “The next item is…a supermarket.”  ----- lifted up the mini model of a supermarket, complete with robotic people and mini cars. 

            “People used to scavenge.  Shopping is not a necessity.  Food can be found elsewhere.” 

            “The next item is a tissue,” ------ called out while lifting up a tissue from a podium, as the man who contradicted the supermarket as the greatest invention sat down, much to the audience’s dismay.  They clearly thought supermarkets were irreplaceable.  However, without fail a woman mentioned handkerchiefs and the tissue was placed back on its podium.  ----- asked the crowd, “What about email?” 

            “Back in the day, we wrote real letters with stationary.  None of this silly instant messaging thing.”  The audience turned its collective head and glared at the old woman until she sat down

            “Next, I have up here a bicycle!” 

            “Bah.  We can just walk!” 

            “What about an oven?”

            “I use a fire-pit.  It saves electricity and power.”

            “A pen?”

            “Pencil”

            “A plane?  This is one important invention that revolutionized war and trade!”

            “Ships are just as usable.”

            All the items were rejected one after another.  Sometimes ----- could only hold up the item, or a model, before the item was rejected.  This was one of the most ruthless shows.  ----- was nervous because there were only two items left on stage.  “There are two items left on stage.  If one of these is not the greatest invention, then the show will be back next week.  However, if one of these is the greatest, then the show will shift topics to the greatest type of shoe.  Now, let us see these two items.”  With that said, ----- whipped off the covers with a flourish.  As the covers fell, the crowd gasped.  There was a refrigerator which was quickly booed because people could easily use cold boxes.  The other item was—

            I awoke with a gasp.  I knew what the greatest invention ever invented was.  The invention was so obvious I was surprised I never thought of this item like that.  It is so common and always there that I take this item for granted.  What would I do without it?  The whole world could potentially collapse.  Well, maybe. 

            I called my friend, not caring my clock was flashing 3:10am.  I knew the answer.  “The greatest item is a chair!”  I almost shouted my answer due to my elation, but barely held back.  The answer was so easy.  Without chairs, where would I sit comfortably or write stories and read books.  How would I travel in cars or learn in schools?  This simple invention revolutionized the world but is never remembered.  Chairs exist all over from full luxurious thrones to hard painful rocks. 

            I will always remember the chair as the greatest invention, not because it is flashy or unique, but because without a chair, my feet would hurt from standing all day.     

"I Remember" by Forrest Gump

I remember jumping off of the boxes in our living room while dressed as a red power ranger and activating my cool power rangers wristband. I remember my Dad and I using a cardboard box as our breakfast table for our last meal ever before we left Florida. My Dad had made pancakes and we both managed to share the box and finish them up. I remember gathering up all of our things and putting them on the U-Haul and then going to the airport to board the plane. I remember waving goodbye as I said all of my friend's names just as the plane took off to fly over to Davis, West Virginia.

I remember learning how to golf and ski in West Virginia. I remember my first snow. I remember my first blizzard, the snow was taller than me. I remember gathering sticks and knocking down branches to gather wood for the fire place. I remember my friend had ruined all of my Play-Doh because he left the drawer open. I remember having to wash my hands and take off my shoes after immediately entering my grandmother's house every single time.  I remember driving my little red Jeep around the house so many times that I started making tracks in an oval shape around the house. I remember the three huge turkeys that landed on our driveway on the day of Thanksgiving. I remember going to New York, New Mexico, and Connecticut to visit my family.

I remember getting into my first car accident, and hopefully my last. I remember feeling helpless and despair. I remember not knowing what to do at first because I was stunned. I remember the feeling of my heart beat rapidly and all of my senses kick in and intensify. I remember the extreme sense of anger when I thought that things were just not right and just not fair at all. I remember the sense of confusion and the urge to say that you made a huge mistake, what are you doing. I remember the horrible realization that I had to come to thinking I am going to her car and I need to do something about this. I remember feeling helpless when the insurance company claimed my car was totaled and beyond repair. I remember... 

"My First Memory" by Lola Lane

"What is your first memory?"

I hate this question. Does anyone really, truly know their first memory? Probably not. I have a lot of memories, but I couldn’t tell you my first. However, I have an answer to the “my first memory” question, so I don’t look lame at parties. I was around four, which I know doesn’t fit scientifically because apparently I was supposed to have my first memory by two, but, alas, my first remembered memory was at four. It was a dreary, rainy day. It must have been a Saturday, because my dad wasn’t working and my mom was. As my dad had to handle two crazy kids on a rainy day, he decided to take us to a movie. I remember we went to “Mom’s Apple Pies” first, and I got a smiley face cookie. This wasn’t just any cookie. This was the kind of cookie you bow down to. You see, when I was a child, my father wouldn’t buy as anything that was considered excessive. The answer to any cool toy, concession, or cookie was a solid “no”. So, you can see my excitement at being able to procure such a magnificent cookie.

I thought my life could not get any better, but then it did. My dad took us to the movies, the movies! It was the “Wizard of Oz”. I like to think that this is where my first memory kicked in. The colors in the movie were so vivid and pretty, I was fascinated. Specifically, I remember watching Dorothy just strutting her stuff, and then I remember an urge to eat my cookie. Once I started thinking about the cookie, I couldn’t stop. I had to find a way to eat it, without getting reprimanded. This wouldn’t have been THAT big of a deal if my father hadn’t told me to hide the cookie when going into the theater, as so it would not be confiscated from my gluttonous clutches. This was crucial; I hid that cookie well.

But now, I really wanted to eat the cookie, so very badly. I didn’t want to get caught, at all. I was a good kid, I knew the difference between right and wrong. I knew what happened on “Lizzie McGuire” when she gets in trouble; she gets a detention. This was much bigger than detention, though. This could mean jail, or worse. But the cookie was smiling at me. It looked so good and sunshine-y yellow. I still had the taste of vanilla with a hint of lemon in my mouth from the piece I had eaten before the movie started. I had to have it. 

So, I thought the only way I could get away with this horrible act, was to make sure not a soul saw me. I found my chance, and took it. I slowly lowered myself to the gross, grimy, floor that belonged to the theater. I couldn’t care less; I was in a safe haven to eat my cookie with a calm mind. When my dad saw me, I remember passing it off like I was hiding my eyes from the terrifying flying monkeys. I felt like such an outlaw, but that was outweighed by the delicious taste of victory, with just the slightest hint of lemon. I wish I could say that this experience helped me lead a life of being a cool kid who breaks all the rules, but it didn’t. Life moved on, I became a good kid, and this memory has always been identified as my first.  

"Hampton" by Calvin Wintertown

         My Dad and I pull into the driveway. My joints ache, I can't feel my feet. I wish I could say the same about my rear, sore from a near-4 hour drive south from home. I'm in Hampton, Virginia, where the July afternoons are hot and muggy, the roads are pale and cracked concrete, and life is slow. Nobody rushes down here. Its life in the Northern part of the state that makes one forget what the south is; that Virginia is the south. The hustle and bustle of metropolitan and suburban life makes a person stiff, grey, edgy and anxious; yet tired. Tired of the grind and zero time for family a feeling I know all too well after seeing my parents coming home day after day, and so I’ve prayed that life will not be my fate. It's a destiny accepted by too many kids raised in the tumult of big business- and frankly- small excitement. That being said, a city kid like me might be shocked at what some miles away from home can do to create a whole new world. They say the south has its troubles; you've got your good areas and the bad, as with anywhere else in this country, but there’s a pleasant simplicity about it. Especially here, the people are surprisingly happy considering they aren't so well off, in comparison to even the lower middle class of their northern citizen counterparts. You wouldn't expect that all of these people, who you see flocking small family eateries, laughing and conversing and exuding pure joy in life, were struggling in the recession that affects us all. In a town that visually looks like it’s been hit the hardest, it's family-oriented spirit and deep-rooted southern hospitality has never been stronger. If you live here, you know everyone, and everyone knows you- a sense of community could not be more clearly defined. Despite the occasional tragedy that plagues the nightly news, the sun always seems to shine with extra radiance in this low lying beach town of Hampton, Virginia.

         And so with a little background knowledge of my surroundings, it is time to return to my situation as I try to pry my creaky joints out of this metal trap of pure discomfort and make my way up to the front porch to ring the doorbell of this place which is to be my lodging for the next two nights.

         Stepping out of the vehicle, I make my way up to the front porch of the house. Before I even get the chance to knock on the front door, it’s already opened - and behind it stands an old man, pot bellied and generally unkempt. It’s evident that he’s spent his Sunday on the couch watching TV, and by the smell of it, smoking a pipe. Despite his age, he stands with the posture of one thirty years younger, characteristic of a military man. He lacks that tired and stale look in his eyes as you would expect from the elderly. Through the lens of his glasses you can see a glassy array of green and gold. The light dances in sparks with a brightness that is made even more apparent when paired with his current expression. The man in the door smiles wide as he lets out a chuckle that can only be identified to him; a chuckle that I know all too well every time I make a visit.

         As I return his smile, he says to me in a cheery, southern drawl,

 “Well hey there sugar! How ya been? It's been too long since I last seen ya, grown like a weed as usual!”

         My grandpa grabs me into a big bear hug, the same ones I've been given since I was barely four feet tall. The hug smells like tobacco and cologne, something I'm all too familiar with and will never forget about him. As my dad makes his way up to where we are, my grandpa's focus shifts to him and we move into the living room where I spend the evening listening to stories about the day's round of golf and the old days of the Navy.

"Moments" by El Suenador

Trees. The morning begins with this one sound of the slow rustle of trees circling the hill. The leaves barely brush each other, but the sound echoes across the cement deck and through the umbrellas and the chipped lane lines, making them to sway side to side on their weak cables. Nothing moves except the trees. As light fills the sky, the sun can catch a glimpse of little dots swarming around the water and diving in one by one. Suddenly, the scene can be likened to Grand Central Station as the water splashes the sky, gossip blooms and travels in corners and screams are directed at the little dots in the water.  The scarcity of neighbors is no mystery. At this early in the morning, normal people are dreaming away with the sun creeping in through cracks and crevices. But for us little dots, we are blinded and drowned in the sun and water and the sound of people.

Then, just as they entered, the dots slowly retreat from the water and disappear back through the gate. The water slowly drips back from the sky and splatters the deck. The stubborn lane lines fight with the water and each other, but most of all us, as they are rolled back into place. Car doors slam and tires crunch away to the bright green, yellow and red lights down the road. The crystal water becomes so still, it seems like a painting waiting for the jump. Patches of short grass seem to be reaching towards the sky, threatening for you to come and prick your feet. Chlorine hangs in the air and to our suits, overcoming even the smell of sizzling pizza for lunch in the life guard shack.

These are the moments that belong to few people in the world. It is the opportunity to take the remote control and pause your life, rub your eyes from staring at the screen for too long, step back and look around. Where one can sit back and watch the earth and sky move.

For me, all the hubbub of even summer days disappeared like the dots and my only worry in the world was if I was cherishing the moment enough. These moments belonged to me for a short time. A few others and I had the privilege to lounge in the shade and have our wrinkled skin be seared by the hot plastic, and watch the sky and the earth move together. These slow ticks between Grand Central Station mode and patience practice with little children and floaties; they belonged to us too.

A few ticks later, the moment would be gone just as fast as it came and flip flops would scrape the cement once more. Noodles and melting kickboards would be dragged toward the edge of the waiting water. But for that short time, the pool was ours. The water, the grass, the trees- all ours to share and treasure. Day after day, month after month while the noodles drooped lower and the kickboards became as soft as playdoh. These days lingered and escaped every night until the gates were clicked and closed, the water concealed and the dots walk sluggishly down the road home. The moment stays until the deck becomes a graveyard for tent skeletons and the trees lose their rustling leaves to the autumn wind.

"Morning" by Justin Turner

At six o'clock I wake up to the annoying beep of my five-minute fast alarm clock and groggily get up into the seemingly cold air only to hit the snooze button and tumble back a few steps into my safe, cozy, and warm bed. Just as I drift back to sleep however, "BEEP BEEP BEEP." Once again I stumble out of bed, but this time shut off the alarm completely. I turn on the lights to avoid falling back asleep, and get dressed, literally just throwing something on and then I head out into the hall. After a quick stop at the restroom I head to the kitchen where my mom is waiting and making my youngest sister's and her lunches. I greet her with a hug and an Italian "Good Morning" and set off to make breakfast. I pick out the Cheerios and get a bowl and pour the milk. After such a "filling" breakfast it's 6:20. Time to wake up my sister. Usually I go downstairs and physically shake her  to wake her, but I'm feeling extra lazy today so I just knock on the wall next to her room. No reply but I continue my schedule because technically, it's her responsibility to get up on her own.

I head back to my messy room and grab last night's homework off my desk and stuff it into a binder and into my bag. Then I mentally go through a list of what classes I have today and what I need including after school activities, and I pack accordingly. Today is a Black day, so I go through my schedule. After that I go to the kitchen and drink some Red Zinger tea with honey and pack a sandwich, a granola bar, and an apple for lunch. I then knock on the wall again and out comes my sister, all set to go. Apparently she had been up the entire time but just didn't return my knocks.

I grab a hoodie and we head outside towards the bus stop. The brisk, cold air hits us, and any hint of grogginess is wiped away. We begin our five minute trek to the bus stop talking and chatting as we pass sleeping houses and the dark forest next to us. Leaves and acorns are scattered all over the sidewalk and our feet make crunching sounds. I look at my watch: 6:41. We begin to sprint. Our backpacks sway in time behind us. At 6:43  the bus stop is just in sight and we slow to a walk so no one sees us running. Wouldn't want to embarrass ourselves now would we?

We arrive at the bus stop only to have thirty seconds of idle chit chat before the bus arrives. Still catching our breath we climb aboard and I think of how close that was. I find a seat and sit down. I then realize...that I left my lunch on the kitchen counter.

"Unveiling the Words" by Raul

"The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible.” -Vladimir Nabakov

                                                                                                                                                           

            Although I have always loved to write, it takes a long time and a lot of frustration for me to write what I mean to say. I have always found it difficult to get what’s in my head onto paper. I always wish that I could just write down my thoughts without thinking, but I am unable to do that because I am always worried about making my sentences perfect. I usually sit with my laptop or papers, ready to write my essay, but for some reason I can never get my words out. To get to the point of where my words come out into my writing freely, I go through a whole process of brainstorming and outlining. I then continue using my usual process of how I write an essay.  

            I begin my essay by planning out what I want to say in it. In order for me to gather all my ideas and organize them in a way that makes my essay flow, I create a list of what I want to say in each paragraph. I only write a short sentence for each bullet point, and then I move them around in an order that makes sense. Some people write detailed outlines with all of their commentary in it, but I like to keep it short and then expand on what I have. This way, I know what I want to say in each paragraph and then the words come out of my mind easily. If I tried any other way then I would be sitting in front of the computer deciding how to word each sentence, which would take me a very long time.

            After I have a list of what I want to include in my paper, I begin with my introduction. Some people write their introduction after they have completed their body paragraphs, but I find it easier to just have the introduction written so that I can write my essay as I go. For me, the introduction of an essay is the most difficult paragraph to write and it takes the longest time. Even though I always have my paragraphs planned out before I start writing my introduction, I never know what I want to say in it. I sit there for a long time in front of my computer, hoping that I will get an idea of what to say to start off my essay. I become very aggravated when I can’t think of what to say.

            When writing an essay, I tend to get distracted quite a bit. This is the biggest challenge for me during my writing process. Distractions add to the reasons why it takes me so long to begin writing words out. If my mind strays for just a moment, I find myself unintentionally picking up my cell phone. Once I get distracted, I am likely to stay on twitter or continue texting for hours. I always hear people say that music really helps them stay in focus, but for me it does the opposite. Even if the music is on low volume and is really relaxing and calm, I lose focus. Any little sound can distract me. For example, if my brother is jumping around in the room next to mine, I try to ignore it and continue writing, but I usually end up going over to him and yelling at him to stop. I need to be in complete concentration if I am to ever get any good sentences onto paper.

            Although I get distracted a lot while writing, once I do start to write and I know what I want to say, the words flow out of my mind and I start typing away. To me, the best feeling is not when I have completed an essay, but when I have a steady pace of writing down my ideas. Once I really get into my writing, I just keep writing whatever comes into my mind. Then, when my essay is finally done, I go back and edit it. I sometimes have to change whole paragraphs or even take out sentences here and there, but compared to writing the essay, the revising doesn’t take me too long.

            Once I have finished writing and revising my work, I think back to when I had just started to write that essay. It really amazes me that, although I didn’t know how to say what I wanted at first, I eventually got everything out of my mind and into my essay. It really is like the words are all there, just waiting for me to figure out how to make them visible.

"Leaving" by August Rain

Leaving. The word itself has so many different meanings depending on how you use it. You could be leaving home for the morning; for school. You could be leaving your home for good. You could be leaving your family.

In my mind, everyone leaves eventually, and though it's a bittersweet fact, the sooner one comes to terms with it, the easier it becomes along the road. It's an inevitable, therefore it's been a topic deemed as an 'unspeakable'. It's a sad subject that most people would rather avoid, since it's only human nature to build bonds with different things and people. The thought of leaving is one of the scarier truths of human life.

I, for one, like the idea of leaving.

I think it was back in April of this year when I first started really thinking about this subject. My grandfather had just passed away, and I had always been very close to him, so to see him leave right in front of my eyes, it got me thinking. If everyone leaves, if it's so natural, why don't people talk more about it? Why aren't there more books about it where it isn't portrayed as the worst part of someone's life? So that's what started my current piece.

In a story I'm currently writing, the main character deals with the idea of leaving all the time, at the end feeling it is the better decision. I guess it's the thought of freeing yourself from...anything and everything. Venturing outside your comfort zone, whether it's forced or not. Finding a new land, and society, starting fresh with a clean slate, it all sounds so perfect sometimes, no matter how hard it might be.

To me, 'leaving' and 'starting over' have become synonyms, though that's not the case with everyone. It's a scary thought, I know that. But when you're really scared of something, the best way to get over it is to go out and do it, or else, you'll live your life wondering why you were so scared of it. But it's so scary it's almost seductive, that you can't help but wonder about it, and get so close to actually leaving but you don't. You don't leave. You don't let go of what you've made, who you've met, who you've lost, everything you've worked for, gone in an instant. It's understandable why no one would want to leave that comfort of their life. But if there is any constant throughout life, it is change. Everything changes and so do you along with it.

So it's really 'change or be changed' or even 'leave or be left'. You can choose, but either way, everyone's going to leave, and so are you.

But once the initial terror subsides, you have something so pure, so untouched that proves to be a greater help than you think, because leaving isn't all that bad.

Once you get used to it, of course.

Write Here. Write Now.

Welcome to the home of the Herndon Writing Center!

Each week, we will post two pieces from student-writers in the Herndon Writing Center. We hope you appreciate and enjoy our work, and thanks for stopping by!

The Herndon Writing Center