Bryan (Chastain, Christian)
Personal Reflection Essay
Hard times, Calls for strength
It was just getting dark out; the sun was a setting sail off into the ice blue ocean. The family was all in the dim family room, which was as relaxing as a dream of something you always wanted to do. As I sat a cloud of softness, that was the chair. I thought about where my father was.
So I stood up and stretched, which felt like a cup of coffee, just after you woke from a long night of sleep. Then I started down the hallway that was a long path to Neverland. I finally reached the end and knocked on the door to the office. Then I opened the door to find my father, a tall man like a tree, and tan like the sand of the beach, with hair the color of fresh saw dust from a tree, and eyes as dark as coffee.
When I walked in, he was sitting in a chair with a needle in one hand, while the end of it was in the other arm. It was filled with liquid tar. Across from him sat his best friend, who was short, with skin the color of a coconut. Hair long, like a rope and as black a train. He had his face down on the table, facing me, with his nose against a line of white powder that made you think of sugar.
They both stopped doing their “thing” and looked up at me in shock. I just stared back at them and shook my head in disappointment and walked back out, shutting the door behind me. I knew they would not say anything, simply because they didn’t have anything to say. They were as lost as Treasure Island is. As I walked back down the hallway I looked at some pictures. It brought back a dam full of memories that broke and flooded my brain’s village.
There was my dad and me, winning the father-son run-a-thon for the third year. Another was the three day tournament of golf; we received second in it. Then I continued back to the family room and sat back down in my chair. I had thoughts rushing in my head, like NASCAR on the track. They kept coming faster and...