My Closet Essay Example For Students

My Closet Essay My Closet I sat quietly on the couch next to my father. His short muscular arm extended over my head as if to protect his little girl. His fingers got lost in my strands of hair, as I yanked my head forward as if to signal I did not want him to play with my hair. My new baby doll with big blonde ringlets and skin that smelled like a baby’s skin after it has just been powdered, rested in my lap. My meek hands stroked the tiny doll as if it were alive. My father knelt down and kissed my forehead as he said, â€Å"Don’t worry, Princess, Mommy will†¦.Oh here she is now!† I sprang from my warm, sheltered seat and sprinted to the front window as quickly as my tiny legs could move. My fingers grasped the long, wooden windowsill and my little pug nose pressed against the window pain. My breath delivered a frosty appearance on the glass as my eyes strained to see my mother step out of her car. My toes ached with pain as I fought to stay in view with the outside world . Too late. I could already hear my mothers graceful footsteps ascend the stairs. She carefully opened the door that entered my kitchen, and I flung myself into her arms. My mother yelped with shock and a hint of exhaustion, â€Å"Meggie honey, Mommy is very tired. Please be a little more careful next time.† â€Å"Mommy! Mommy! Daddy bought me a new dolly today, her name is, Madeline. Look! Look!†Ã¢â‚¬Å"Oh very nice sweetie. I have a surprise for you too.†Ã¢â‚¬Å"What is it? What is it?† I exclaimed as I jumped rapidly around the kitchen. My mind raced. Was it another doll? Maybe the game I had been wanting? Tinkerbell perfume! That is what it must be. I had always wanted Tinkerbell perfume. Everytime I saw it in a store I would shout and point with such excitement. I thought it had magical powers that would make me fly. My imagination always ran with ideas as most children’ always do. My mother griped my hand tightly and led me into the living room a t a slow pace that indicated she was nervous yet excited. She sat me down gently next to my father. Her smile had never been so huge. An extra twinkle was in her eyes. They fluttered from my father to me, and then back to my father. She stood there in front of us, motionless. Her hands were clamped together and her fingertips were the color of my babydolls dress, white. â€Å"Well?† my father questioned. â€Å"Guess what? Mommy went to the doctors today and I found out I am going to have another baby!† exclaimed my mother. â€Å"What! That’s fantastic,† my father shouted as he scooped her up into his arms and gently kissed her, first on the cheek with a light caress of his lips and then upon her lips which lingered for a few extra seconds. That kiss through my eyes seemed to last for an eternity. I on the other hand sat there expressionless. My new dolly fell to the floor, face down, into the plush, cream carpet. Her hair was now a tattered knot from my little girl fingers weaving in and out of it, just as my father had done to my hair. My eyes felt hot and watery, my cheeks reflected the color of a shiny read apple. I felt those tears piling up by the millisecond. The pressure behind my eyes was overwhelming; my eyes were going to pop out at that very moment. Not an utter of sound escaped from my quivering lips. I thought about the day when I may no longer be first at going down grandpa’s slide at his pool on those hot summer days. The handmade wooden swing that hung from a giant oak tree in my back yard would no longer be just mine. Every day we went shopping I wouldn’t be able to get a surprise because I would have to wait my turn. Picking out my favorite cereal just for the toy inside wouldn’t matter anymore. I would soon become a ghost. The name Meagan did not sound familiar anymore. So, I tiptoed around the corner of the living room and up the stairs, which seemed a mile long. I went to a place where only I existed and no one else mattered. My closet and I cried. .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f , .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f .postImageUrl , .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f , .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f:hover , .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f:visited , .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f:active { border:0!important; } .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f:active , .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u6fa27fee141fa0484c4ee300a6443d1f:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: The application of Information Technology systems EssayI let all of those tears come bellowing out from my irritated, red eyes. I wanted to yell and scream and bang my hands on the floor till I was satisfied. I did not do any of those things; instead I draped myself upon the cold, hard floor. I lay there until I heard those graceful steps of my mother’s waltz into my room. â€Å"Meggie, where are you?† my mother’s voice whispered. For a minute I thought about not responding so that she would realize what life would be like if I was not around, even if it was only for a brief moment. â€Å"I’m right here,† I whimpered. â€Å"Baby girl, why are you crying?† My mother opened my closet door and peered in. â€Å"I am going to be forgotten†. â€Å"Oh, honey. That is not true in the slightest†. â€Å"Mommy, will you still love me as much as you do when you get the new baby?†Ã¢â‚¬Å"Meggie, listen to me. I love you more than you understand. You are the single most important person in my life. I would do anything for you†. â€Å"Really?†Ã¢â‚¬Å"Of course, just because I am going to have another baby does not mean I will love you any less†. â€Å"Really?†Ã¢â‚¬Å"Yes, and I have another surprise for you†. My tears instantly stopped streaming down my chubby cheeks. My mother picked me up into her delicate arms and placed one hand upon the back of my head. Placing me down onto my canopy bed she turned and walked out of the room for a second. Upon her quick return she carried with her a bag. It was small and pink. With a loving smile she placed it next to me on my bed. I leaned over slightly and peeked into the bag. TINKERBELL PERFUME! My mother had gotten me tinkerbell perfume. â€Å"This is just what I wanted†. â€Å"I know, and it is because now that you will be a big sister you are becoming a big girl†. â€Å"I am?†Ã¢â‚¬Å"Yes, you are. Being a big sister will be lots of fun, just you wait†. I crawled into my mother’s lap and kissed her upon the cheek. She looked down and me and I stared up at this beautiful woman that I wanted to grow up to be just like. She was radiant, like an angel. It was then that I accepted my new role in life. I jumped down from my mother’s lap with my perfume in hand and ran into my closet to begin freshening up. After all, I am big sister Meggie. Engineering Reports