Personal Narrative - The Rice Fields of Home :: Personal Narrative, Autobiographical Essay

The rice Fields of Home I remember the big Gingko guide on the little hill. It was an old channelize, shaped comparable a granny knot with her curved back and wrinkly body. I loved how its leaves turned thriving yellow during the autumn. I called them, Eun-hang Ip. Whenever the wind blew, it was snowing yellow, and I was covered with them. I would ofttimes doze off in that yellow blanket while the fair weather held my feet with her warm hands and the gentle breeze brushed my hair. In my dreams, I climbed that tree all the way up and reached the clouds--the white cotton candies. Carefree, hassle free my younger years... Everything seemed so beautiful in my eyes. Mother disposition was with me and she filled the absence of my real mother during my childhood my daily demeanor started with the satisfying weather and ended without complaints. All four seasons shared their piece equally and decorated my memories with their pretty details. I never forget my grandfathers sky-blue antique bicycle and its two gigantic wheels. It didnt have a break, but it made a little close shave sound every now and then which brought out more of its golden oldie character. I would paddle that bicycle finished my peaceful, car-less alley. The trees on the side of the road with their arms arched inward made the way seem like a tunnel. The little bits of sunbeams that sneaked in between the leaves, looked like the sparkling Christmas tree lights. When the tree tunnel ended the paddling also stopped, and the gravity took control because it was expiry down the hill. With the sudden acceleration and the bursting of full blazing sunshine, I unopen my eyes, feeling the speed all over my body. Red, pink, yellow, and white Cosmos flowers, which replaced the trees on the side, were the first colors back into my little peaking eyes. As I rode through the flower tunnel, now slow and calm again, I could hear the adjudicate wind whistle. Time of h arvest, a six years old me footrace around and following my family, was a busy time. All the rice fields, which were once covered with rice plants, were cut.