Familiar Place: Its a Saturday morning around 8am. I hear my door creak and little feet creep across my floor. "Mom can you please make me pancakes? PLEASE!" says my daughter, Giovanna. As I walk down the stairs I hear, "I did it my way!!!!!!!!". Which is my dad thinking he's a good singer. Every Saturday no matter how perfect our house is, something has to be redone, painted, cleaned out while listening to Frank Sinatra. As I put on a pot of coffee, I get everything together to make pancakes and anticipate I'll probably have to make 10 or 12 for my brother and sister as well. Of course my brother is already up watching sports center in the living room. My mom hears me clanking pots and pans and screams, "Clean everything up! And use a dish towel not a hand towel!".
Strange Place: Silence all I hear is silence. I wake up in a cold house. It doesn't smell like coffee or food. I walk down creeky wooden steps. There's no one in this house. There's no pictures on the walls, there's no school made projects on the fridge. I walk outside the front door to see a place I'm unfamiliar with. There's no houses around just a bare dirt road with mountains in the back round. It looks more like a horror movie then my house.
Strange Place: Silence all I hear is silence. I wake up in a cold house. It doesn't smell like coffee or food. I walk down creeky wooden steps. There's no one in this house. There's no pictures on the walls, there's no school made projects on the fridge. I walk outside the front door to see a place I'm unfamiliar with. There's no houses around just a bare dirt road with mountains in the back round. It looks more like a horror movie then my house.