Is This What It Has All Come Down To?
The following is a paragraph I wrote in an introductory composition class in the summer of 1986. Yes, it is simple and somewhat stilted, but there it is nevertheless (I used the name of the colors in my daughter’s crayon box). I tested below college level so I had to take an introductory composition for remediation. My daughter went to school with me. We rode my bicycle to school; she sat on the bar in the middle. I’ve held on to this paragraph all this time, because I made a 94, –my first A.
Every Monday and Wednesday, we bicycle under the most beautiful tree in the world. This tree strikes me as being the home of merry and fulfilled branches and leaves. The extended, pulchritudinous branches are so big and full that they block the sun from shining through, casting yards of refreshing shade. Just to see the beauty of its burnt sienna, pine green, and olive green colored leaves is gratifying enough to leave one breathless. There are many leaves hanging down as freely as if they were tempting one to steal them away from their origin. We always snatch a few leaves, hoping that the beauty of the tree, its branches and leaves can stay with us until the next time.