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Salmond 1 A Precious Memory I eagerly step out of my 2002 black GMC, taking it all in; the white peeling walls, the rickety old steps leading to the front door that no one uses, the tattered hockey net and bright yellow hockey stick laying on the front lawn. I walk around to the back door and notice the light blue 1997 Chev sitting in the driveway. Without looking down I step on an old rusty beer can and notice the entire back yard is littered with beer cans and many other bottles that were once filled with hard liquor. I smile and remember the amazing parties that are held here nearly every weekend. I pull myself onto the makeshift deck and put all my force into opening the broken door. I am instantly hit with smells of musty, sweaty hockey equipment; the smell of boys surrounds me. I shyly poke my head up stairs, which is deserted as I should have expected. I then softly speak his name, “Joel”, and without hesitation he tells me he is down stairs. Of course I have to manoeuvre around the hockey pads that have been left to “air out” or as I like to think stink up the place even more. Nothing ever changes down here; the boxes of empty beer cans piled high behind the bar, the dart board at the foot of the stairs that was forgotten about midgame, the old cot, and tan colour couch. The television, now that was something to see, these boys have the whole works, the largest screen I have ever seen! I look at the screen and notice he is watching Family Guy. I sigh at the ridiculous cartoon characters, lie down beside him and close my eyes for a short nap at least until Brian is done fighting that yellow chicken. I can’t help but think how lucky I am, so this place isn’t clean, fancy or neat, but none of that matters; this is a place where I can be myself. I am truly happy here. Nowadays, when I drive by the little white house in Rycroft I notice that the hockey net and stick are gone. The alcohol bottles have long since been cleaned up and refunded at the local bottle depo. The light blue 1997 Chev no longer sits in the drive way but somewhere in my


Salmond 2 hometown, Fairview crippled in a junk yard. This house no longer houses Joel, just his memory. I no longer smell the stinky hockey equipment or party here. I no longer feel happy when I drive by.

A Precious Memory  
A Precious Memory  

English Essay

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