Friday, June 7, 2019

Imagining My Future Essay Example for Free

Imagining My Future EssayMy hand flies to my identifyt, the other to Matthews hand. I startle awake from an endless nightmare. Luckily, I havent alter my sleeping husband, who I must say sleeps like a rock. I stretch verboten and sit up, the c everyplaces pooling around my waist. The moonlight continues to shine into our room from the balcony. I give Matthew a quick kiss on his hand and slowly crawl out of bed into the depths of our house.I wander the empty hallways of this home Matthew and I have built. Pictures line the wall from our wedding, to the birth of our three winderful children, Braden, Katarina and Adam. I couldnt imagine any better life. As my hand skims the wall, my feet sink into the rich purple carpet that lines the hall. I touch the cold metal of my first sons door knob and hesitantly open the door. Braden is twelve-years-old, and as gymnastic as his father. The first thing he learned to say was Dada and knew how to skate before he could walk. Hockey must be in his genes hes the captain of his Pee Wee B hockey team. He has a great future set in front of him.I tip-toe oer to his queen size bed covered with blue sheets. Braden takes after his father in looks as well. His eyes are the rich color of the sky and slew combined his bull a dark chestnut brown a smile that is so perfect, he didnt need braces. As I cerebrovascular accident his hair and pull the covers up, I remember the first time I dropped him off at school and I imagine how hell deal with spill to a new school next year since its s raseth grade. I turn off the music he plays every night to help him line asleep, and exit his room as quiet as I entered.Katarina is only a year younger than her brother. Shes only eleven and is as individual as a teenager. Shes sprawled out on her queen size bed covered with bright colors that swirl around. I watch her breathing, a slow rhythm of ease as she dreams ever so peacefully. She takes after me, which Im thankful for. Her eyes are a rich green, her hair a bright blonde, but Kat was born with teeth like her great-grandmother. Shes almost to the ripe age to get braces. I hope she wont get teased when she gets them its a grave fear of mine. Kat is always striving to be her unique self, and doesnt exactly heraldic bearing what others think of her. Her fearlessness is something most other girls her age crave for.Shes a bookworm, just like her mother as well. Matthew and I brought her skating seven-fold times, but she didnt really get the same sensation her momma felt as a figure skater. Instead, shes a dancer knock and ballet and shes extremely gifted. Where she received her gracefulness on feet is something I question myself with everyday. Shes my angel, her fathers pocket-sized girl, and her brothers best friend. I glance over to her window which is right above her bed. The moonlight casts a light upon her drooling face and I manage to hold back a giggle. I wonder how some hearts Kat will break when she enters the scary and dreaded place of high school.My littlest boy, Adam, sleeps the farthest apart from his parents. He has the intelligence of Einstein and is constantly challenge everything. He isnt big into the high-contact sport as his older brother, but is enjoying music quite much as well as tennis. Adam is eight, and loves his guitar. He plucks the strings night and day. His looks are that of mine and Matthews. As he sleeps, he snores a bit and fidgets, but the stuffed tiger his grandmother gave him is tucked safely away in his arms.Right now, Adam wants to be a rock star. I only hope he achieves the dream he decides on. His clothes are dispersion around his floor and being as restless as I am, I cant help but not pick them up. CDs of oldies line shelf after shelf. I watch him move and he silently calls out for Grandma. Grandma Fern passed away few months ago and little Adam was her absolute favorite. When Adam found out about her death, he was devastated. He took up a vow of silence and wouldnt come out of his room. Finally, Matthew and I were able to soothe him out to talk to us. Hes been back to his talkative self ever since. I close the door and hear the click of the door.I wander back up to my room, and dance to the balcony. I flop into the overstuffed red love seat Matthew and I placed outside. In the distance, I can see a glimmer of the soft lake that is only minutes away from my home. I cross my legs and sigh to myself.Well hello there. Didnt you ever learn to close the door? a deep, rough voice says. I quickly whip my head around to see the man I call my husband. Oh, dear Im so sorry I was caught up in how beautiful the night sky looked. I didnt even think about the door. I say hastily. Well, Im glad you forgot. You cant keep this to yourself, you know. Matthew says as he joins me. Ive known him since I was a junior in high school and Ive been infatuated with him ever since. His face is turned toward the night sky, and I cant help but wonder how this fascinating creature is with me. Matthew has been playing hockey ever since the age of five, and has a knack at it. He played for the Fighting Sioux in college, and was moved up to the professional league when the Washington Capitals signed him to their roster. He was ecstatic about the offer. My children and I cant go and stay with him in Washington State, but we go to every game we can. Hes my childrens hero, and my own to love.I place a single hand on his cheek, an act Ive always done towards him. Its almost morning wife. What are you going to make for breakfast? he teasingly asks me. He knows whatsoever I cook, he has to help with. Well, I was thinking some bacon, maybe an omelet. Unless you prefer something more five star. I instantly challenge him. He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder as if I was as light as a feather. He lays me on the bed and suddenly we are in a game of chasing each other around the bedroom. He never ceases to amaze me. Of course, Matth ew lets me win and we stroll downstairs to the kitchen, starting up the coffee, and planning out what to carry our children.

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