Writing

The Outdoors is my Home…

I am taking this year, Six Weeks, Six Senses by Sarah Seckley. Here is my post, please remember that I am learning grammar more and more. If you have any thoughts feel free to share them.

The Assignment was: Sound

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Character
Photo credit: Christopher Jolly on Unsplash

The outdoors is my home, regardless of what people say.

As a child I would visit my father, he was a camper, an avid one at that. He lived out there, most summers, falls and at times, the spring.

I would spend my time sitting beside him on the rocks that overlooked the small river before us. I could hear the wind whispering songs to the trees. While they carried on you could hear the pitter-patter of the fish splashing around as my father tried to reel him in.

I learned from nature, how to hunt, to swim, to survive.

What do I do instead?

I insult my heritage, my roots. As I sit at this desk. Typing away, the click-clack of my computer. 

21,34

1234.09

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Setting
Photo credit: Brandy Willetts on Unsplash

Number after number, words on a screen, causing damage to my eyes, most likely. I hear my companions in the room around me. Someone turning off a light in the supply closet, the closing of doors, audible sounds being heard from the left.

Everything is loud.

No one whispers like the wind of home. The outdoors, presenting me with the world of freedom. But as I leave the office, my footsteps are heavy. I hear the sounds of the ‘new nature. The sounds of radios too loud, people chattering on the streets, conversations I don’t belong in, conversations I shouldn’t overhear.

But as I move, it’s not just that, it’s the honking of cars, stopping, starting, engines idling, or roaring as they press the gas pedal. But when I get ‘home’ I miss it the most.

The need to open the cork, pop the bottle of champagne, treat myself to its golden juice. I pour it into a glass, but it won’t last long. I swig it back, my adam apple moving as large gulps could be heard. I move to take a bigger drink from the bottle itself.

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Pivotal Object
Photo credit: Jaeyoon Jeong on Unsplash

The stress from a long day wears away as each chug hits the back of my throat, the burn stinging before I stop. I sigh as I plop down in my chair, it moves from the sudden force of my large body, thudding to the ground.

Nothing is like the nature of the outdoors. The only disadvantage is the lack of the golden juice I enjoy. The lack of it, is the reason why I’m here, and not there.

Where I was intended to be. In my home, the outdoors. 

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