The following is a piece I wrote for a creative writing class I am taking. If you're an aspiring writer, I highly recommend this class.
Two Weeks in Iowa
Chris began to question the wisdom of this trip when she
looked at her phone and saw no bars. “I feel like I’m in one of those ‘Twilight
Zone’ episodes Mom likes to binge watch,” she thought as her uncle’s Ford
pickup bumped along the gravel road.
Spending part of the summer in Iowa sounded like an
adventure when her parents first made the suggestion. She longed to get away
from the city and oppressive Florida heat. She had pictured herself strolling along
cobblestone streets, exploring unique shops, and dining at a cozy café’.
Now here she was in the heart of the heartland, and all she
saw was endless rows of corn and soybeans. The few towns they passed through
seemed empty and uninviting. A post office. A bank. A convenience store. Nothing
looked quaint or interesting.
The ride from the airport was long and Uncle Steve wasn’t
much of a talker. All the windows were rolled down, allowing dust and farm smells
to blow in. Although Chris had her hair up, wisps of golden brown were defiantly
tickling her face. The seat beneath her was cracked and patched with duct tape.
Song after twangy song played on the radio, summarizing country life with words
like mud, fishing, beer, and John Deere.
Chris tapped anxiously on her phone, hoping the text she
wrote would go through but cell service had been intermittent for miles.
Chris to Mom: Do I have to stay
the full two weeks? L
System response: Message
failed/resend
Even though she was 15 and not a little kid, she was feeling
so homesick that her stomach squeezed. Pulling up her photo gallery, she
browsed through pictures taken last weekend at her going-away barbecue. Her
mom, Lisa, had curly hair two shades lighter than her own. Her dad, Ed, had
hair two shades darker. She smiled a little realizing how much her dad and his
brother (Uncle Steve) looked alike—minus her uncle’s overalls and trucker hat.
The pickup started to slow as it bounced down a long
driveway toward a weather-worn 2-story house. Behind the house was a faded red
barn and a tiny shed. To the left and to the right were fields. No other house
was in sight. Chris felt the panic of isolation rise up. She closed her eyes
and took a deep breath.
“Woof-woof!” A grayish dog ran up, announcing their arrival
with a friendly bark. They stopped at the back of the house. Chris noticed red
gingham curtains hanging cheerfully in the kitchen windows, and she could smell
the fragrance of Lily of the Valley growing beneath. A pretty blue bicycle was
leaning against the shed.
When Uncle Steve opened his door, the dog greeted him
eagerly. “This is Jessie, our beagle,” he said with pride. Chris looked at the
dog quizzically. Beagle? Then she noticed the faint outline of brown and black
hidden beneath a layer of white. Jessie was clearly a very senior beagle. “She’s sweet,” Chris smiled.
As they walked up to the house, the screen door swung open
and Aunt Doris welcomed them. “Christiania! You’ve grown up!” She stretched her
arms wide and Chris responded with a hug. Her aunt was soft and round and
smelled like Jergens lotion. “Come in, come in. I’m sure you’re starving. Do
you like chicken noodle soup? Salad?”
Half-expecting Campbell’s and bagged lettuce (which she made
for herself after school sometimes), Chris was pleasantly surprised to see colorful
veggies on the table-- cucumbers, tomatoes, radishes, carrots--all fresh from
the garden. At the stove, Aunt Doris was stirring a pot of homemade soup. The
delightful smell made Chris feel dizzy with anticipation.
“After lunch we’ll drive into town and get you a pass to the
local swimming pool. All the kids your age go there,” Aunt Doris promised.
“Okay!” Chris replied happily.
Beep beep. The familiar
sound of an incoming text. She glanced down to see 5 full bars!
“Do you need the Wi Fi password?” asked Uncle Steve. “It’s posted
on the fridge.”
Chris excitedly tapped in the code and responded to her message.
Mom to Chris: How’s
it going, sweetie?
Chris to Mom: Great! It’s gonna be a fun two weeks. Love
you! Tell Dad I said hi! J
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