Graphic Card

Querencia- The Sense of Place (final)

Shuffling into my room, I drop my things and collapse on my bed. I lay there for a minute as the day’s events run through my head before it hits me: I have homework to do. Gradually sitting up, I sigh heavily as I pick up my books and papers splayed out on the floor. I wearily walk to my dad's office, pausing at the doorway. I breathe in deeply as the subtle scent of lemons wafts through the air. The sun’s rays warm my skin and blind my eyes as I make my way to the bumpy, grey swivel chair my fathers' had for years. Placing my assignments in a neat pile, I position myself at his dark wooden desk. Sitting for just a moment, I mentally prepare myself. It’s time to begin. I work my way through questions and math problems, essays and power points. 

            Stuck on the same math problem for half an hour, my brain begins to throb. I question myself why I would take Algebra 2 in freshmen year, but then remember that it's a junior class. Of course it would be harder. Staring at the problem, I groan and give up. I whip my head up to look at anything but the pile of assignments waiting to be completed with a frustrated huff.  

Leaning back in my father’s chair, I run my hand over the lumpy, threaded material and gaze up at the ceiling fan. Following the fan’s movements, I mindlessly begin to spin in the same direction. Picking up speed, I feel as if everything I have to do isn’t important. When I feel I’m going as fast as possible, I pull my legs in as my vision starts to blur. Hair softly fluttering behind me, it’s as if this magical vortex has taken all my worries and stress and flung them out the window, into the far distance.

            Steadily coming to a stop, I feel a little dizzy, but in a good way. The sun’s arms embrace me in warmth as I slowly stand up. Stepping closer to the window, I look down at Pearl Harbor. Reflecting the light of the sun, the water’s surface glistens so brightly that I can see it from the top of my little hill. Lights are scattered across the neighborhood, glowing dimly. I then think of the lamp sitting less than three feet away, staring intently at the pile of books I have on the desk. Taking a deep breath, the faint aroma of lemons surrounds me once again. I turn with a smile on my face, accepting the challenges that lay before me. Mind refreshed and wiped clean, I can pick up where I left off. No worries, no stress. No responsibilities, no parents yelling, no annoying siblings. Just… me.

            As far back as I can remember, this particular room has always been there for me. Since my dad wasn't home much, it was free for me to use at whim. It was and still is my escape from actuality; my sanctuary from the true world. Whenever I sit in that old lumpy chair, it's as if it drains all of my stress and worries. When my mind is clouded and overstuffed with thoughts, looking out to the sparkling harbor has a clearing effect. My dad's office has always been my safe haven when things have spun out of control. It's where I pick up the pieces and slowly but surely fit them back together. This plain, dusty room has been my refuge for the last 14 years, and most likely will always be. 

Querencia- The Sense of Place (draft)

Shuffling into my room, I drop my things and collapse on my bed. I lay there for a minute as the day’s events run through my head before it hits me: I have homework to do. Gradually sitting up, I sigh heavily as I pick up my books and papers splayed out on the floor. I wearily walk to my dad's office, pausing at the doorway. I breathe in deeply as the subtle scent of lemons wafts through the air. The sun’s rays warm my skin and blind my eyes as I make my way to the bumpy, grey swivel chair my fathers' had for years. Placing my assignments in a neat pile, I position myself at his dark wooden desk. It’s time to begin.  I work my way through questions and math problems, essays and power points.

            Stuck on the same math problem for half an hour, my brain begins to throb. I question myself why I would take Algebra 2 in freshmen year, but then remember that it's a junior class. Of course it would be harder. Staring at the problem, I groan and give up. I whip my head up to look at anything but the pile of assignments waiting to be completed.  

Leaning back in my father’s chair, I run my hand over the lumpy, threaded material and gaze up at the ceiling fan. Following the fan’s movements, I mindlessly begin to spin in the same direction. Picking up speed, I feel as if everything I have to do isn’t important. When I feel I’m going as fast as possible, I pull my legs in as my vision starts to blur. Hair softly fluttering behind me, it’s as if this magical vortex has taken all my worries and stress and hurled them out the window.

            Coming to a stop, I feel a little dizzy, but in a good way. The sun’s arms embrace me in warmth as I slowly stand up. Stepping closer to the window, I look down at Pearl Harbor. Reflecting the light of the sun, the water’s surface glistens so brightly that I can see it from the top of my little hill. Lights are scattered across the neighborhood, glowing dimly. I then think of the lamp sitting less than three feet away, staring intently at the pile of books I have on the desk. Taking a deep breath, the faint aroma of lemons surrounds me once again. I turn with a smile on my face, accepting the challenges that lay before me. Mind refreshed and wiped clean, I can pick up where I left off. No worries, no stress. No responsibilities, no parents yelling, no annoying siblings. Just… me.

Querencia- The Sense of Place (brainstorm)

            Whenever I feel like I can’t handle the world, I go up to my kingdom (more commonly known as my dad’s office). It’s not much. There’s a clock on the right wall, a lamp near his desktop, a small closet on the left, and opposite of his large, wooden desk is a window overlooking Pearl Harbor. Walking in, I can smell the subtle scent of lemons. As if scheduled, I sit down in his grey, bumpy chair less than a minute later. My dad isn’t home much, so I could come and go as I please. It’s a quiet place to think or dream, even imagine the craziest things ever. The almost silent hum of the fan encourages creativity and freedom, making me forget everything that’s been on my mind. It’s my personal liberation spot, and I truly couldn’t ask for more.