For Grandma
You drank hot water from a chipped mug. It was so boiling, that it would have scalded my tongue. But you loved it. I loved the Eggo waffles that I've never had without you; for...
Issue: <span>July/August 2007</span>
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You drank
hot water
from a chipped mug.
It was so boiling,
that it would have scalded
my tongue.
But you loved it.
I loved the Eggo waffles
that I've never
had without you;
for me they are only
there
in your warm house,
with the rain
pouring
behind the large window,
as it often does
in Olympia.
“Alexandra! Alexandra!" came the excited voice of my younger cousin Clara from the hallway. "You get to take Max and me shopping for Halloween costumes!" I smiled at her seven-year-old excitement as I stepped out into the crisp autumn air, filled with leaves in a hurry to get to the ground.
Josh watched all the heads bouncing up and down as he hiked down the trail. He was on a Boy Scout hike with his small troop through the large forests in California. This would most likely be their last hike for a while because they were going to go skiing in the mountains for a few weeks.
He had been a Boy Scout for two years now and loved the long outdoor hikes they had during the summer.
Numbering All the Bones, by Ann Rinaldi;
Hyperion Books for Children: New York,
2002; $15.99
Only once in a very long time is a book published that is truly a work of art. It takes a great deal of work and time to have created such an extra special piece of writing. Only once in a while is a truly artistic and skillful book published, that readers of all ages can enjoy, now and for years to come.
Izzy and her sister, Natalie, stepped onto the asphalt at Bergman's Running Track on Norm Street. This was Izzy's favorite time of day. Quiet. The sun was rising. Izzy began to run, slowly at first, then speeding up. By the time she reached Natalie again she was at full speed.
"Time?" asked Izzy.
"Two-thirty," replied Nat.
"Yes!" Izzy exclaimed. "One more time.
I walk out into the hot summer night and head across the lawn to the barn. Fresh dew covers the lush grass, and I lift the small red backpack that hangs by my side so that it will not get wet. Fireflies flash silently through the air, gleaming like tiny flying diamonds. The full moon shines almost as brightly as the sun. I reach the barn, where my horse, Athena, stands in her stall.
The sea opens its arms to me
Hugging me by pulling me into its deep cool waters
My head goes under
The waves crash overhead
I hug it back
I swim deep
To the bottom
No rush to get air
My feet feel the sandy bottom
I swim back up
To smell the crisp fresh salty breeze pass by me
I see mossy rocks slipping under the waves
Seagulls cry loudly for their friends
I see bright neon-colored sea glass glitte...
Juan (pronounced Ju-an) walked into our living room where my parents were sitting at the table. My mom and dad knew right away that she would be the one. She was wearing jeans and a Barbados T-shirt. She had brown hair, brown eyes, and brown skin. My sister, Emily, was two at the time and I was not yet born. Emily walked up to Juan and shook her box of Tic Tacs.
"You want one?
Domenic's War: A Story of the Battle of Monte
Cassino, by Curtis Parkinson; Tundra Books:
Toronto, 2oo6; $9.95
At the mention of war, some of the first images that come to mind are of troops firing from trenches or a plane dropping bombs. These are the experiences of soldiers; but imagine an ordinary person, a family with children perhaps, just doing ordinary, everyday things, like cleaning up the...
It was a warm, sunny, day. The wind chased the clouds playfully across the sky Mejandro rocked contentedly in his chair, but he knew something was not right. However, he was content to sit on his porch and wait for the trouble to find him. It always did in the end.
The sun was just sinking below the horizon when a panicked-looking Henry raced up the worn rabbit trail to Alejandro's house.