My parents built the all-cedar house I called home about one year before I was born. September 29th, 1975 I arrived like a live house-warming present. My parents still live there.
This four-bedroom, two-story house with a three-car garage sat on 40 acres of beautiful field in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. As I grew into my pubescent years, the many trees our family planted every year started to take on their adolescent state too, and the field flowered with all colors of wild prairie flowers and red dogwood.
On my twelfth birthday, twenty-seven years ago today, my dad assembled a volley ball/ badminton net in the front yard and a croquet set in the back yard for all my friends. We played outside games all day into dusk, which is when we switched to glow-in-the-dark frisbee with one of my new birthday presents. The game didn’t last long. Someone tossed a hook throw and the glowing disk landed in the back of my dad’s huge garden. I ran to retrieve the frisbee between retired vegetables and grabbed the pristine fluorescent white plastic. The disk tugged back. I wasn’t the only one grabbing my frisbee. A badger clamped his sharp teeth on the gift and snarled at me with frightening ferocity. Not good. I dropped the disc and ran.
We found the frisbee many years later near the forest edge, where the bottled gentian grows. The plastic was completely clawed and chewed and wonky. I laughed. Who loses their birthday present to a badger? Apparently a tom boy like me does. At this place. Home.
Happy Birthday to me.
Assignment: write about the house you grew up in when you were twelve, but be sensitive to the length of your sentences. Use long, medium, and short sentences.