Personal Narrative - The Rice Fields of Home :: Personal Narrative, Autobiographical Essay

The Rice Fields of Home I remember the big Gingko maneuver on the little hill. It was an old tree, shaped bid a grandma with her curved back and wrinkly body. I loved how its leaves turned golden yellowish during the autumn. I called them, Eun-hang Ip. Whenever the wind blew, it was snowing yellow, and I was covered with them. I would often doze off in that yellow blanket while the sunshine held my feet with her warm hand and the gentle breeze brushed my hair. In my dreams, I climbed that tree all the way up and reached the clouds--the white cotton candies. Carefree, worry free my younger years... Everything seemed so beautiful in my eyes. Mother Nature was with me and she filled the absence of my real mother during my childhood my daily life started with the satisfying weather and ended without complaints. alone four seasons shared their charm equally and decorated my memories with their pretty details. I never forget my grandpas sky-blue antique bicycle and its twain gigantic wheels. It didnt have a break, but it made a little squeak sound every now and then which brought out to a greater extent of its oldie character. I would paddle that bicycle through my peaceful, car-less road. The trees on the side of the road with their arms arched inward made the way seem like a tunnel. The little bits of sunbeams that sneaked in between the leaves, looked like the sparkling Christmas tree lights. When the tree tunnel ended the paddling also stopped, and the gravity took control because it was going wipe out the hill. With the sudden acceleration and the bursting of full blazing sunshine, I closed my eyes, feeling the speed all over my body. Red, pink, yellow, and white Cosmos flowers, which replaced the trees on the side, were the first color in back into my little peaking eyes. As I rode through the flower tunnel, now slow and calm again, I could hear the fall wind whistle. Time of harvest, a six years old me running aroun d and following my family, was a busy time. All the rice fields, which were once covered with rice plants, were cut.