The First Conversation

The First Conversation is a one act play that I wrote in my creative writing class.  It shows the beginning of a relationship being formed.  This was one of the hardest pieces I have ever written.

The First Conversation

Act 1 Scene 1

There is a brightly lit room, with the sun shining through the window.  A teenage girl lies on her blue bed with her phone in her hand.  It is completely silent in the room, as the girl, Sammy stares at her phone.

The sound of ringing ruins the sound of complete silence.

SAMMY: (Smiles at her phone, and presses answer.)  Hey there.

LUKE: Hey yourself. (Voice comes from the phone, but you don’t see his face.)

SAMMY:  What are you doing? (Rolls onto her stomach, with her feet hanging off of her bed.)

LUKE: Just looking at you.  You look really good right now. (Said in a quick and quiet voice.)

SAMMY: What’d you say?

LUKE: Nothing.

SAMMY: No, come on tell me.

LUKE: I didn’t say anything don’t know what you are talking about. (Said with a yawn.)

SAMMY: I’m going to hang up if you don’t tell me.

LUKE: No you won’t.

SAMMY: Wanna bet? Just tell me.

LUKE: You won’t do it.

SAMMY: (Gives Luke a smile while simultaneously pressing end on her phone.)

Act 1 Scene 2

Same setting.  Sammy is now sitting with her back up against the plain white wall, waiting for Luke to call her back.  She holds her phone in both hands staring at it intently.  The phone rings and she smiles, but quickly erases the smile from her face when she presses answer.

SAMMY:  I wasn’t kidding.

LUKE: I see that now.

SAMMY: So are you going to tell me what you said? (She goes to run her fingers through her hair but then remembers it’s in a bun and pretends to fix it.)

LUKE: I said… (Voice travels off and then stops.)

SAMMY: Just tell me it can’t be that big of a deal.

LUKE: (In a loud and yelling voice) I said you looked really good right now.

SAMMY: Oh, (blushes) I don’t but thanks.  See not that big of a deal.

LUKE: Uh yeah ya do.

SAMMY: My hairs in a bun and I don’t have any make up on, yeah I probably look fantastic right now.

LUKE: You do.

SAMMY: (Shaking her head and smiling, she slides down onto her bed so she is laying down with her head resting on a pillow, putting the phone in her right hand, holding it in front of her face.)  Thanks.

LUKE: (Starts singing “Best I Ever Had” by Drake.)  Sweat pants, hair tied, chillin' with no make-up on. That's when you're the prettiest, I hope that you don't take it wrong.

SAMMY: (Starts laughing) Noooooo, but okay.

LUKE: See, right there, that.

SAMMY: What?

LUKE: Don’t move.

SAMMY: What are you talking about?

LUKE: Perfect. (Luke whispers) Completely perfect.

SAMMY: What are you talking about? (She asks in a completely exasperated voice.)

LUKE: You, you look absolutely perfect.

SAMMY: (Shakes her head, her smile gets even bigger.)  Thanks. (Says softly.)

LUKE: (Goes back to singing “Best I Ever Had”.)

A List of Lists

A List of Lists is a list of things that I like.  This is an assignment that my teacher gave us in class, and I fell in love with it.  These lists allow you to see and remember everything that you love about your life.

  A List of Lists

 

1. People who have influenced me;

- My mom

-J.K Rowling

-Sarah Dessen

-Mrs. Gieleghem

-Dax Harris

-Rick Olson

-My dad

-My friends

 

2. Things that I want to do this summer;

-Egg Sean's car

-Morrucis every Friday

-Get super tan

-Have fun

-Convince him to date me

-Go to the gym everyday

-Write as much as possible

 

3. Things that make me happy;

-Big sweatshirts

-Kissing

-Fireplaces

-Summer

-Music

-Chai tea lattes

-Getting hugged but not having to get hugged back

-Sweet text messages

-Laughing so hard you cry

-Talking with someone for hours on end

-Him









Tradition

Tradition is a memoir about a certain time in my life.  This memoir is a vignette.  Tradition shows a moment in my life, that explains me as a person but also tells you about one of my favorite things/feelings in the world.

Tradition

            I feel my mom squeezing my hand with her soft hands, and I hear her say, "You ready Kay?" I nod my head and stare out of the window that is next to me. Mom always gives me the window seat so I can see out. This is our tradition. Sitting in my seat with my belt pulled tight, I watch as my mom pulls the crisp laminated piece of paper out of the pocket in front of her. "Where are all of the exits?" She asks. I point at each one, and then look at her waiting for the nod of approval that I know I will get.  Mom puts the paper back in the pocket and then sits back in her seat and looks at me, smiling so big.  “Here we go,” she says.

            I hear the engine start up and look out of the window. I watch the landscape slowly change as the airplane moves across the ground. I feel my heart start to beat fast and I clench my tiny fingers around my mom’s strong hand. Finally I see the plane has reached the runway. I lean even closer to the window until my nose touches the cold glass. My breath fogs up the window, but I quickly wipe it away.

            The plane starts gaining speed and I watch as the world seems to move in a fast forward motion. That's when I feel it. No longer are the tires running along the ground. We are lifting off.  I feel mom squeeze my hand, once, twice, three times.   The city is growing smaller and smaller with each passing second.  I see the cars on the freeway grow into ants and I watch people become invisible.  I love this part, when you’re flying so high that it seems like nothing can hurt you.  The pressure in my ears is building but I know what to do. I open my mouth in a huge yawn and settle back into my seat. This is going to be a long flight.

The Third-Floor Bedroom

The Third Floor Bedroom is a piece that I started writing in my creative writing class, but then revised and finished outside of the class.This was a piece of writing that we based off of a picture that our teacher let us choose.  This is a story from 1rst person view.

                                     The Third-Floor Bedroom

                My family has always called me insane.  They kept me hidden way from others, locked high above where no one else could find me.  I had two sisters who watched me like I was the most dangerous person in the world, and a mother and father who were scared of their own daughter.  When I was younger things weren’t always likes this.  I used to sleep in the same room as my sisters, where they would tuck me into bed every night.  My mom used to sit me on her lap where she would braid my hair and give me kisses on my cheeks.  Things used to be different, things used to be normal.  Maybe it all started when I started talking to myself.  Or maybe, just maybe it all began when someone left the window open.

                                                                              ________

                I was six years old the first time my sister Kelsey left the third-floor bedroom window open.  It had been a hot summer night and we didn’t have air conditioning.  I decided to sleep upstairs to keep cool, but Kelsey and Riley didn’t want to stay with me.  As I watched my sisters leave the room, I saw something flutter in my peripheral vision.  Turning my head quickly the word wait flew from my lips. 

                “What is it baby doll?” my sister Riley asked.

                “I saw- I saw, I saw something,” I stuttered in reply.

                “It’s just the breeze,” Kelsey said, “Just remember to close the window before you fall asleep, wouldn’t want the boogey man to get you.”

                The girls giggled together as they walked back downstairs not realizing that they were about to lose their sister forever.              

                                                                           __________

                I was always seeing things that I shouldn’t.  I would tell my mom that I saw a tiny person sitting on a flower, or I saw an old man who needed our help.  But she never saw them.  I was the only one in my family who was special. The night that my sisters left my alone in the third floor bedroom, was the night that everything changed.

                I was lying in bed staring out the window up at the sky when I saw something in the corner of my eye.  It had wings and what looked like long hair.  Sitting up in bed I squinted my eyes trying to get a closer look but it just made the object get fuzzier.  The little thing was sitting on the window and seemed to be looking at me.  I climbed out of bed and over to the window to look at even closer.  I didn’t want to scare it so I moved as slowly as I could.  Finally I got so close to it, that I could see that it wasn’t just an object, it was a little person.

                The little person with wings on its back looked at me and turned its head sideways, in a questioning look.  I reached out to touch it but it jumped back. 

                “What are you?”  I whispered.

                “I am whatever you want me to be,” it whispered back to me.  I felt my eyes get huge with surprise that it had actually spoken to me. 

                From there my story stays about the same.  I saw things that others didn’t and I never hid it.  Who knows, maybe I am crazy, but I am okay with it.  I’ve got things that talks to me that others can’t even imagine exist.

Love Doesn't Always Last

Love Doesn't Always Last is a piece that I wrote in my creative writing class.  My teacher gave us two lines that we had to use in our story but we had to make up the plot and everything else in between.  This story shows the last few moments a wife is spending with her husband before he leaves her.

Love Doesn't Always Last

The two stood face to face looking at each other wondering how things got to where they were today.  Sarah looked at her husbands face and wondered how you love someone so much but not have the feeling be mutual.  She knew his face better than anyone.  The perfect round eyes, making him look even more magical than he already was.  His tall lean build toned from hours of exercise towered over her.  She wanted to grab his hand, feel that he was still the same man that she loved, but she knew that not what he wanted. 

            His face was so full of anger and desperation as he watched her watch him.  Sarah knew there was no going back to the way things used to be, but instead of ruining the last few moments she had with the man she loved, she stayed silent, just soaking up the presence of him. 

            “Is this better,” she thought to herself, “Pretend like everything is okay between us, just to keep him with me?  Or let him go and know that nothing will ever be the same?”

            Sarah felt her eyes fill with tears and took a calming breath, trying to stop the fire that was building behind her chest.  Looking at his face only reminded her of the happy memories that she once had with him.  It reminded her of the cozy home they shared together, and the life they had intertwined with each other.  She remembered the vows they had spoken to each other on the night of their wedding, the words she had taken so seriously then and still did.

            “For better or for worse,” echoed in her skull, making the tears that had long since disappeared fall from her eyes down onto her cheeks.

            “How can this be the end,” she thought to herself, “After everything that has happened? Everything we’ve been through?”

            Sarah took a step closer to her husband and interlocked their fingers together.  She waited for the look she was sure was going to come across his face.  First came the eyebrows, she watched as they pulled together.  Then came the eyes, she saw as his eyes closed, shutting her out completely.  Then came his mouth.  His perfect lips, she had come to love, they turned downward showing his dislike towards her.

            She held onto him for only a few more seconds, putting him and herself through as much pain as she could muster.  Sarah stood on her toes and kissed him on his cheek.

            “Good-bye,” she whispered to him.  Trying to feel and smell as much of him as she could in that moment.

            Stepping down, Sarah watched as her husband bent down to pick up his bag, stand up, nod at her, and turn around and leave.  Sarah could feel herself crippling from the inside out.  She watched as he left, hoping he would turn around and change his mind.  But he didn’t.  It was only Sarah who stood there, and then there was one.

His View

His View is a poem that I wrote as a love poem in my creative writing class. It shows the point of view from a man who is proposing to his girlfriend.  This poem has no rhyme scheme.

His View

Heart beating,

Perspiration falls down my neck,

Hands shaking,

Butterflies soar in my stomach.

Her hair is perfect,

Falling lightly on her shoulders,

Her eyes look like the shining sea,

Everything is perfect.

I feel the box sitting,

Resting upon my chest,

Thumping along with my heart,

Nothing will ruin this night,

My fingers tingle as I reach for her,

Taking her hand in mine,

I feel her shake too.

Breathe in,

Breathe out,

Nothing is more important than this,

I hear the word that she whispers,

Yes.

I would rather be a cat

This piece of writing is a 6 word memoir about me.  This assignment had to go with a visual, so I used a picture of my cat.  I think that this memoir fits me and my personality perfectly.

I would rather be a cat.

Squeaker

Squeaker is a first person narrative story from a cats point of view.  This story describes the moment of a cat chasing a mouse and what it is thinking the entire time.  I think that this story is humorous because you never actually get to hear the point of view from a cat, and this allows you to.           

Squeaker

           I’ve always loved just laying down.  I don’t care where it is, I don’t care who it pisses off, I just like to be comfortable.  Maybe its that shady spot on the carpet one day, or maybe the sunny spot on the couch the other day.  Where ever it is I don’t really care as long as I can snooze.

            But you wanna know the problem with napping in open areas?  There always seems to be somebody who wants to touch me.  I mean, come on.  I’m hot.  But sometimes I just want to be able to lie in my sunny corner of the couch and take a long nap.  But no, instead I get to hear the baby voice from a grown adult come on, and then all of a sudden I’m in the air.  They think coddling me is going to get me happy, but instead I just grumble to myself.  They take this as a sign of happiness and keep rubbing my stomach, which to be honest isn’t that bad but I like to complain. 

            Finally after what seems like years they finally put me back down on the couch but by that point my warm spot is gone, so I decide to leave.  I hear little sounds of munching up ahead of me and decide to go check it out.  Right there before my eyes was a little tiny brown thing, it made my mouth water just looking at it.  Its tail twitched as it sensed my presence.

            The little brown mouse turned its head in my direction.  I watched as its eyes grew bigger, once it figured out what was behind it.

            “Oh no,” the thing squeaked.  God I hate squeakers.  And just like that it was off.  Up and down the hall I chased it, my claws grabbing into the carpet.  I saw a wall coming up and thought to myself, “This is it, I’m gonna get it.”  But turns out the little bugger was a lot smarter than I gave it credit for.  It went around the wall and ran down into a bigger room. 

            “You’ll never get me,” it squealed.

            “Oh yes I will, “ I yelled back.

            The squeaker ran through out the room, but I had it trapped. It ran under the bed, through the pillows and towards the closet.  Stupid mistake.  I chased the squeaker into the closet where I backed it into a wall. 

            Cowering into the wall the squeaker said, “Please don’t eat me I have a family and I need to be with them.”

            “Should have thought about that before you came into my house,” I replied.

            “Please…” It cried.

            As I got closer to it, it trembled in fear.  I knew that I couldn’t eat it but I could scare it a little.  So right as I was putting my mouth around its neck, I heard the squeaker scream and I knew that I had scared it enough.  I picked it up lightly and walked with it in my mouth.

            Walking down the stairs, I heard my owners talking in the kitchen and decided that was there I was going to bring it. 

            “What are you doing with me?” It squeaked loudly.

            “Shut up,” I grumbled in my throat.

            Finally I reached my owners, where I rubbed up against their legs, because it was the only thing that I could reach.  I dropped the mouse at their feet and walked away.  It had been a very tiresome day and I decided I wanted to go back to sleep.  Once I was a few feet away I heard my woman owner screech in fear, this made me smile.  Damn, it was good to be a cat.

The Story of Maximus

The Story of Maximus was based off of the original story of Rapunzel.  In my creative class we had to pick a fairytale and re-write it.  This is my re-written version.

The Story of Maximus

Once upon a time…

                  In a far off land, sat a boy.  Young to the eyes but ages old to the soul.  He sat watching out a window, a tiny little frame, where he saw birds flying across the blue sky.  He was but 12 years old and already he had the makings of a beard. His shaggy blonde hair hung in front of his eyes making him look scared and innocent.  His frame was slender and his legs were long.

            Looking up from the window he looked around his room, covered in paintings and drawings of the things he liked the most.  His bed was made and his ground was covered in papers from everything he had written.  He had just gone to his bed when he heard a singsong voice come from below his window,  “Oh Maximus dear let down the ladder.”  Maximus rushed to the window where he dropped down the ladder.

            Waiting and watching Maximus knew who was coming up but never forgot how beautiful she was.  Gold hair appeared first, then the makings of a face, and later the rest of her body.  Maximus sat watching as she climbed into his tower and knew that he would never love anyone more than he loved her.  She smiled at him and his heart broke.

            “Maximus!” She exclaimed with a gleeful smile, “Look what I brought for us.”  She showed him her basket, which was filled with a cherry and apple pie, with a container of milk and a couple of sweeties.  Maximus beamed at her and they sat on his paper-covered floor and munched on pies and sweeties while drinking in each other’s presence.

            Everything was as peaceful as could be until he heard the sounds of someone climbing the tower.  Maximus looked at the beautiful girl beside him and saw that her expression matched his.  She dove to pick up everything but just as she started to move she saw a boot come through the window.  Old dame Gothel climbed through the window with her steel-toed boots and long black cape, looking as if to be the most evil human being to ever walk the earth.  Once inside the tower Gothel’s eyes seized the girl.  Gothel hissed beneath her breath and said to Maximus, “How dare you betray me, sneak a girl in here, now see what happens to her.” 

            Gothel walked towards the girl and seized her hair as if it were a rope.  She led the girl to the window where she looked at Maximus and exclaimed, “This will teach you and anyone else who were to enter here, a lesson.”  The girl who was sobbing into her hands repeated, “No please, no.”  Maximus just sat there watching, as the girl he loved was about to die.

            Just as Gothel was pushing the girl out of the window, Maximus leaped forward and grabbed the girls hand.  The force of the push was too much though, and both went flying out the window.  They wrapped themselves in each other’s arms and fell together.  They hit the ground still wrapped in each other’s arms, where they would stay for the rest of eternity.

The End

A Story About A Hero

A story about a hero is a 3rd person narrative story.  The original assignment for this was to write a story about a 1st grader and make them a hero.  This was one of my favorite stories to write.

A Story About A Hero

This is a story about a hero named Faris.

Faris was always known as a special little boy, but there came a day when he became a hero.  Faris never talked back or fought with his mom or dad.  He played nicely with his brother, and shared his toys with his friends Aleesha and Sophie.  But there was one day that changed everything. After this day, the world knew Faris by name and could point him out even with a disguise on!

It was a cold afternoon, with a light touch of rain, and Faris was sitting on the side of the pool.  He was wondering whether or not he should jump in, when something caught his eye.  It was a little white tail, swaying back and forth off of a tree branch.  Faris watched as a kitty leapt from branch to branch, getting higher and higher in the tree.

“Don’t get too high,” Faris thought to himself.  But just as Faris thought it, the cat got so high in the tree that it was scared and didn’t know how to get down.  The kitty sat on the highest branch in the tree and looked down, scared to death. 

Faris stood up and looked up at the tree wondering if he should get somebody to help. 

“No,” he thought, “I can do this all by myself.”  Faris walked closer to the tree but hesitated and thought, “But I don’t want to get hurt!”  He had just gotten his cast off of his right wrist a couple of weeks earlier and didn’t want another one, even though he knew getting the kitty was the right thing to do.

The kitty meowed from high above Faris, making Faris feel bad that he wasn’t up there helping it.  Faris took a deep breath and knew the right thing to do.  He grabbed the lowest tree branch and started to climb.

Halfway up the tree Faris looked down and started to shake.  But he knew that there was no going back now.  He needed to save the kitty and get it back to its owners. 

The little white puffball of a cat sat on a branch and watched as Faris made his slow journey up through the tree.

The higher up that Faris got, the more the tree started to shake and the branches started to wobble.  But Faris knew that he could do it because he was a strong and brave boy.  He could handle anything.  He was only four branches away from the kitty, so close! 

He pulled himself up onto the next branch and heard it crack. “Oh no!” he thought to himself. “I need to hurry and help the kitty so both of us can be safe.” Holding on tightly to the branch, Faris reached with his left hand up to the kitty and grabbed a hold of it. 

“Yes!” he yelled out loud.  “I did it!”  Faris held the kitty close to him as he made his way down the tree.  The little white ball of fur cuddled against his chest, purring loudly for Faris to hear.  Finally, Faris reached the bottom of the tree where he hopped down to the ground.  He looked around but saw no one.  “Where could the kitty’s parents be?” Faris thought to himself. 

All of a sudden, Faris saw a piece of paper taped to a pole.  Faris walked over to it and saw a picture, of the kitty he was holding on the poster.  “LOST,” it said in big letters on the front.  “If found please bring to this address!”  Faris wrote down the address and asked a nice old man where it was.

“Well, right around the corner young man, first house on your left,” the old man answered.

Faris yelled a “thanks” as he took off down the street.  He found the house easily and walked up to the front door, and knocked.  A nice woman answered the door and looked down at Faris.

“Well, hello there,” she said. “What can I do for you today?”

“Ma’am, I think I found your lost kitty,” Faris said quietly.  He opened up his jacket and showed her the kitty he was holding.

“Oh my goodness! You found Clammy!” 

Faris nodded and said, “The kitty was stuck in a tree, so I went up and got her.”

The woman leaned down and wrapped Faris in a huge hug and said, “You are my hero young man. May I ask what my hero’s name is?”

“Faris.”

“Well Faris, you are an amazing boy.  Thank you so much for saving my kitty. Clammy is so special to me and my family.  You made my day.”

Faris nodded his head to say “you’re welcome” and turned around and walked away.  He knew that he did the right thing by climbing up the tree and getting the tiny kitty.  Now he was a hero for it. 

Faris knew that from here on out, even if he was scared he would be able to do anything.  As long as he had faith in himself and in his abilities, he could do everything he wanted to. He was not only a special boy now, he was a hero too.

                                                                                                            The End

Little Boy

Little Boy is a poem that tells a story about a little boys hard life and how he grows up.  The original assignment was to pick a picture and write a poem.  This poem is fictional.

Little Boy

There once was a boy who lived in a house,

Most days he sat around and played with his mouse,

He had long blonde hair that was ever so shaggy,

And a couple of siblings named Muppet and Maggie. 

Now these siblings were one, one of a kind,

They shared their toys and got along just fine.

But one day ago, something scary seemed to happen,

The little boy saw something, something you couldn’t imagine. 

It made the little boy cry and scream for his mommy,

But no one was there to hold his hand or rub his tummy,

His parents had left and gone far far away,

They sent him a letter saying they were going to stay. 

He wandered around town asking for money,

Till a nice stranger gave him some honey.

So he went to his siblings to show them what he got,

He thought they would be happy but instead they fought. 

The little boy ran and cried to himself,

He had done everything he could to try and keep their house.

Now the story comes to a close,

The little boy left and did everything he chose,

He grew into a man, so big and so tall,

He got everything he wanted,

He had it all.

The Pillow Speaks

The Pillow Speaks is a 1st person narrative poem, showing the point of view from the pillow.  It describes how a pillow feels, and thinks towards their owner.  This poem has no rhyme scheme.

The Pillow Speaks

I am known for comfort,

Somewhere to rest your head

When you are tired.

I will keep you company

In the loneliest of times.

As you sleep I will catch every tear,

And every scream.

I will always have a companion next to me,

But never do you use him,

Instead you stick with me.

I am not just your pillow,

But also your friend,

Because I will never leave you,

Judge you, or forsake you.

I will protect you

When you are scared,

And I will shield your eyes,

When you need not see,

I will love you always,

And you will always love me.

 

Why I Am Not A Model

Why I Am Not a Model is a collaborative piece of writing that my friend Sian and I did.  It explains why we would rather be athletes than models any day.  The original assignment was to talk about something that we aren't and compare it to something we are.

Why I Am Not a Model

I am not a model,

I am an athlete.

Because I would rather be fit,

For my own satisfaction,

Then thin for others desires.

For instance, Kendall Jenner’s

In a seventeen photo shoot.

I drop in and hear the photographer say,

“I don’t like your arms like that.

They look way too lanky.”

She moves her body to change positions.

But I am me,

I am an athlete.

Give me a ball,

And I will waste hours away.

I love the drive,

I love the power,

Of playing a sport

And knowing

Nothing else

Matters.

3:05 PM

3:05 PM is a poem that describes the last day of school, and the first day of summer.  There is no ryhme scheme, just short sentences. The original assignment was to write about a certain time, and I picked the last day of school because that is the day I am looking forward to the most.

 

3:05

 

No wind,

Just sun,

Cold's gone,

Heat has come;

Steaming sidewalks,

Wet skin,

Ice cubes melting,

Smiles beaming;

 

Loud voices,

Cell phones out,

Crowded halls,

Papers all about,

Children crying;

Goodbye slaps,

And farewell kisses,

So long to all of the Mr.'s and Mrs.'s;

 

The bell has rung,

School has officially been let out.

Selecting a Reader

"Selecting A Reader" is a poem that I wrote for my poetry anthology book, it is about choosing the person who you would think would be reading your poems.  This poem explains through out it who I think the perfect reader should be.  I think that this is one of the best poems that I have written in my creative writing class.  There is no rhyme scheme to this poem, which I think in the end makes it sounds more like a story than just a poem.

Selecting A Reader

First, he has to be wise,

He will know my words and understand them,

He will look for inspiration,

And come upon my poems.

From there he will sit,

Quietly thumbing through them,

Reading each line,

With as much intensity as he can muster.

As he reads he will sip his coffee,

And tap his foot.

He won’t stop reading until the last line,

The last word.

After he has finished

He will put my poems on his shelf,

Where they will sit,

Collecting dust for years.

Until one day,

He stumbles upon my poems,

And begins to read them

Once more.

About Me

My name is Kayla, I am a 16 year old sophomore, who loves soccer and track.  I was born in California but lived back east for 7 years of my life.  I moved back to California before my 9^th birthday and have lived here ever since.  I plan on being a teacher and a writer later on in my life.  Right now my focus, in life, is on my sports, school, and family.  Track is my favorite sport, because I love the adrenaline rush I get from running, and I love all of my friends on the team.   I have two cats, Gus and Sammy, who I adore, and also a fake fish named Squish.  I love all of my friends and can’t imagine life without them. They have always been there for me and always will be.  I love to travel to different places, but my favorite place to be is on the beach with the sand in between my toes and the sun shining down on my face.  Give me a towel, a book, some tanning oil, and a beach, and I will be happy for the rest of my life.