My reason for starting this essay project is simple: I wanted a permanent archive of my written work throughout my school years, something I could re-read whenever I wanted, and not end up losing in the sands of time.
I'd post the stuff I wrote when I was 9, but you'd probably die reading it so I'm only going as far back as 2007, when I was in Form 2. Because it was all school work, handed in to and marked by Mrs Manik, there are no profanities whatsoever.
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Written February 10th, 2007. I was 13.
For as long as she would live, Sammy Jean Wright would probably never forget her pearl memory. She’d been seven, her life painted with greed, pride and selfishness. She’d unwrapped a small gift from her grandmother on the day of her birthday, wondering how her grandmother had managed to fit the Barbie doll she’d requested into that tiny little box. Lifting the lid, she saw a long ribbon placed over pearls. So many pearls, all glimmering proudly in the bright lights of the room.
The gift was beautiful, but Sammy’s heart fell anyway. What good were a bunch of stupid pearls? She’d run up to her room and slammed the door shut loudly. She had surveyed each and every pearl on her dressing table, and then turning away, swept her hand across its smooth surface and the pearls fell soundlessly onto the carpet, into a dark corner where they would lay for the next nine years, completely untouched.
Fingering the delicate fabric of her black dress, sixteen year old Samantha Wright stepped over the threshold into her empty bedroom. She’d come from her grandmother’s wake and black mascara drew lines down her wet cheeks. And then slowly, the pearl memory crept into her mind.
Kneeling down before the same pink dressing table she’d sat at so many years ago, Sammy felt along the rough carpeting behind it. She felt little spheres, dozens, and then a smooth, satiny ribbon. She picked them up carefully and placed them all on her bed. Arranging the pearls in a perfect row, she ran her fingers over them.
Now, thinking back, she could barely believe what she’d done that day when she was seven. Since those pearls, she’d never received another present from her grandmother. Lost in memories, she thought back to all the times she’d spent with her grandmother. She’d taught Sammy to read and write, and to braid her own hair. She’d consoled Sammy when she had come home crying on her first day of school, and reassured her that everything would be okay.
Sammy had gone to her grandmother about her first crush, first kiss and first heartbreak, and received many a wise word. When her schoolmates had shunned her for being black on her first day of high school, it had been her grandmother’s shoulder Sammy had cried on and her grandmother’s voice whispering in her ear about her own experiences with racism.
Her grandmother had always been there for her, even when no one else was. Through thick and thin, with warm eyes and words of wisdom to spare. She’d learnt countless life lessons from her grandmother.
Suddenly, Sammy sat up straight on her bed. She picked up a single pearl and threaded it onto the ribbon. A fresh tear fell down her face as she tied the ribbon around her neck in the glow of the mirror. This pearl, the first and probably the most important, stood for something very valuable, something Sammy wished she’d learnt much sooner.
In that moment, she realized that that add-a-pearl necklace around her neck was most certainly not the only gift her grandmother had ever given her.
The gift was beautiful, but Sammy’s heart fell anyway. What good were a bunch of stupid pearls? She’d run up to her room and slammed the door shut loudly. She had surveyed each and every pearl on her dressing table, and then turning away, swept her hand across its smooth surface and the pearls fell soundlessly onto the carpet, into a dark corner where they would lay for the next nine years, completely untouched.
Fingering the delicate fabric of her black dress, sixteen year old Samantha Wright stepped over the threshold into her empty bedroom. She’d come from her grandmother’s wake and black mascara drew lines down her wet cheeks. And then slowly, the pearl memory crept into her mind.
Kneeling down before the same pink dressing table she’d sat at so many years ago, Sammy felt along the rough carpeting behind it. She felt little spheres, dozens, and then a smooth, satiny ribbon. She picked them up carefully and placed them all on her bed. Arranging the pearls in a perfect row, she ran her fingers over them.
Now, thinking back, she could barely believe what she’d done that day when she was seven. Since those pearls, she’d never received another present from her grandmother. Lost in memories, she thought back to all the times she’d spent with her grandmother. She’d taught Sammy to read and write, and to braid her own hair. She’d consoled Sammy when she had come home crying on her first day of school, and reassured her that everything would be okay.
Sammy had gone to her grandmother about her first crush, first kiss and first heartbreak, and received many a wise word. When her schoolmates had shunned her for being black on her first day of high school, it had been her grandmother’s shoulder Sammy had cried on and her grandmother’s voice whispering in her ear about her own experiences with racism.
Her grandmother had always been there for her, even when no one else was. Through thick and thin, with warm eyes and words of wisdom to spare. She’d learnt countless life lessons from her grandmother.
Suddenly, Sammy sat up straight on her bed. She picked up a single pearl and threaded it onto the ribbon. A fresh tear fell down her face as she tied the ribbon around her neck in the glow of the mirror. This pearl, the first and probably the most important, stood for something very valuable, something Sammy wished she’d learnt much sooner.
In that moment, she realized that that add-a-pearl necklace around her neck was most certainly not the only gift her grandmother had ever given her.
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