Peanut Butter and Honey

I've recently taken to peanut butter and honey sandwiches, a favorite of mine when I was a child. And a recent writing prompt made me recall many of the events of my childhood. So I've decided that writing for classes can have purpose, and now it's going in my blog. This is the beginning to an introduction for my autobiography.

Stained glass windows, cocker spaniels, large stretches of green grass, my favorite band-aid-looking swing, kiddy pools, canaries, begging mom for a few minutes more, the ghetto, humidity, sand, feet of snow, the original Nintendo, willow trees, mountains, grandparents, garages, tree forts: my mind travels through the places I love, the distinct memories of my childhood.

I was born in a St. Joseph's hospital, and carried to a recently purchased red brick one-story-above-the-ground, one-story-below (otherwise known as a basement)home with a large stretch of green grass, that band-aid resembling swing, a bright-highlighter blue kiddy pool with some duck design inside.

The cocker spaniel's name was Velvet. She was picked up as an additional member of the family a few weeks before my birth on May 14, 1986. Her black, crimped fur, silky and always shiny brandishes my memory. She was like my twin, born within weeks of eachother, she was family to me. The day she was put to sleep was a wet day. After snapping at the paperboy on his usual route, my parents decided it was time. I couldn't have been older than 8, though I want to say I was. But I distinctly remember the yard and the paperboy, both of which were located in the town I was born.

Marshfield- most people from Wisconsin don't even know where the dairy-farming community is. An acquaintence I met at college considered her familiarity with the home state and realized she had once been on a fieldtrip there when her elementary school's future-medical-related-career-interested child visited the hospital there once.