Live Lit @StoryStudio Second Descriptive Exercise

  • Sumo

The second descriptive exercise, also two minutes. For this one, we had to pick one of three things, and I choose a weather event. The first descriptive exercise is here.

I hugged the Starburst tightly to my chest as we corssed the row of houses, my shoes filled with water, my mother’s cream slipons nearly coming off. I tucked the Starburst under my chin for added protection as we walked. I half ran, trying to keep up with my mother’s long strides. She covered a square and a quarter in a stride. My little legs almost covered half a square.

She held firmly to my hand, pulling me sideways as she deftly moved curbside, absorbing a cast off wave from a pickup truck as it lumbered through the puddles. I strained with mild curiosity at the newly discovered drainage problem, careful not to let the Starburst slip. If I held my head just right and held the Starburst flat against my chest, it remained relatively dry. Rain coursed down my nose and chin before dribbling in all directions. I held the Starburst just right now.

As we approached the last stop sign before our house, I heard it. Above the din of rush hour traffic, the crashing of wheel cast off while driving through puddles and the sploshing of my soaked shoes, it rang out like it had on the banks of the river in Colorado. I had been terrified and excited on the banks of that river, watching the rapids spit waves and occasionally rafter and kayakers in helmets.

We had not helmets. No life jackets. No paddles. No guide. No safety talk about floating feet first, how to help each other into the raft safely. Yet the rapid stood between us and home.

I watched a bottle float into the rapid that dutifully chewed it in half and spit it out. The top half went one way while the bottom swirled around, confused.

I gripped my mothers hand with both of mind and turned my head into her hip, the Starburst dropping and disappearing into the puddle cast off from a vehicle slowly crossing the intersection. She scooped me up as she surveyed the rapid, and with the grace and precision of a dancer, navigating across the street and away from the rapid. She set me down with a little hug, produced another Starburst from a pocket and gave it to me. She smiled as she took my hand again, maneuvered herself between me and the curb and continued her square and a quarter stride.

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