Unforeseen Characteristics

I punch in the code. SCREE!!! The garage door starts opening, creating an ear-piercing noise. I rip off my mask violently and push my glasses closer to my face. My mask smelt like burgers–cafeteria burgers.

I walked up to the door that leads to the living room and pushed the button that makes the garage door close. SCREE!!! Not only do I hear the sound of metal being dragged along curved ridges, but I also hear scratching at the door. Lando, my dog, was jumping and scratching the door–anticipating my arrival. I open the door and immediately Lando starts circling me like a hungry shark. Occasionally he’d jump and scratch me accidentally. I scratched him under the chin and walked into the house.

I hung my mask up and turned around to find my brother laying on the couch. He was watching his tablet with his ear pods in.

“Hi,” I say to him. Only Lando replies with a cluster of happy barks.  “Okay then.”

I walk into the kitchen, down the hall, and into my room.

Before putting my backpack away, I take out my school-provided laptop, sit down in my chair, and pet Lando one last time before getting to work. I opened a website my teacher showed me: The Decameron Project.

What’s outside your window?

“What’s outside my window?”I  ask myself. ‘What’s outside my window?’ was such a broad question that I could literally say the Burj Khalifa, and I wouldn’t be wrong–everything was outside my window, except for my own home.

I decided to focus only on the parts that I could see to make it less of–what I called–a ‘headache-question.’ I saw a cherry red cardinal perched on a leafless tree. I saw the neighbor’s house which had an odd color scheme. I saw the street where the bus dropped me off and picked me up.

“What do I write about?” I wonder. Maybe I was overthinking it–I often overthink things.

I took a deep breath, looked away from the window, and looked back. Somehow this time I saw a different place, albeit everything being exactly the same.

And that was when I started writing, “I see a quiet neighborhood, one so safe that birds feel comfortable perching on trees near houses. I see friendly neighbors. I see loyal friends. My neighborhood isn’t a unique one look-wise. I don’t live in the middle of a forest. I don’t live on a mountain. I don’t live near a beach. What makes my neighborhood unique is a characteristic unforeseen to people who don’t live here. To say the least, it’s a very peaceful, friendly, neighborhood, and although that may sound dull by comparison to living on a beach or a mountain–it’s not to me.

Whenever my teachers ask me a question like, ‘If you could live anywhere where would you live,’ my answer is always, always, where I live now. I choose that answer because this is where my family is–where my friends live. I conclude my answer by stating the question, “The thing that is outside my window is a peaceful neighborhood of friends and family, and I’d rather live nowhere else.”

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