The Essay

Sitting out on my patio in the early moring hours waiting for the day to begin drinking my cup of coffee in my “Sinceriously” mug my mind wonders from here to somewhere else. The bell for the high school rings telling the students it is time to get to class, and the bell tells me it’s 7:45am. The same school where both of my kids (Robi and Dylan) graduated. Remembering the day that Dylan died is painful and writing about it brought everything back to the surface once again. This time, however, it didn’t hurt as much as it had in the past. So maybe writing about this in my Personal Essay was a good thing, well we’ll go with that for now.

When I started my essay, I had a hard time writing it. Well to be more honest about it I agonized over it for a week (that was all the time I had to finish it) I wanted to tear it up. I wanted to put it back in the box and not bring up the subject again, but something kept his death at the forefront of my thinking and nothing I tried to write aside from his death was working. So I kept at it and kept writing. Turns out maybe I did a good thing here, but it’s not completed yet.

I gave my essay to a friend here in town because on my last assignment for this class I only received one critique for my work, and I don’t feel it was enough. I’m glad I did. Not only did she correct grammar issues, but gave me some solid ideas as well. My ending wasn’t right and I knew that from the moment I wrote it, but I didn’t know what to do. I was stuck. My friend suggested that I bring it around to the my little house or something like that. I think this is a good idea. Now just doing it will be difficult.

The one critque I have from my classmates is a really good one. This classmate had a different view of what I wrote (oh go away sun, I can’t see the sceen if you come out now) She suggested that I change up the beginning to give it a sense of continuity in the description of my neighbor hood. I like that idea. In one paragraph she has suggested changing up the sentences so the emotional impact would be better. And I have to admit, it sounds better with her suggestion here.

Maybe writing this essay was good for me. Maybe others will read it and say “WOW” and sit back in their chair thinking ‘how could a woman go through that?” I don’t know. But my hope with this essay is to give a small piece of my heart to others and let them see what I’ve gone through.


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