Quiet Chaos Essay

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My Own Quiet Chaos Daybreak seems to arrive most unwelcome and all too soon, but not for a twelve year old on summer break. I mostly recall that childhood summer as a single event, rather than the days and weeks defined by a calendar. Just one wonderful memory where time has been unable to erase one common thread…fun. There were, however, a few moments of blissful discovery that stand alone, keeping every detail and specific perfectly intact. This one time I had done it. Greeting any particular sunrise without first greeting my grandfather was a rare event indeed. It seemed as though he had an internal alarm set to wake him twenty minutes ahead of me, no matter the time of morning. Not this day though. This one day of this one morning I found myself sitting in that old truck waiting for the other half of the “Summer Saturday Errand Team”. My grandma would sooner forget her own name than to allow even one of our Saturday journeys to begin without the necessary provisions. After the usual morning hellos, we were off once again on our adventure. As we rode along from each errand to the next, my grandpa would tell story after story, occasionally bringing me back from a world of self-induced daydreams and imaginings. At the completion of our Saturday tasks it was our custom to seek out the perfect place for a well-deserved feeding. Lunchtime on this particular day was cut short by the very sudden arrival of a storm which would be like none I had ever seen before, or would again. Before we could reach the main highway, storm had turned to monsoon. Realizing the hazards of pushing forward in such a storm, my grandpa felt it was best to pull over and wait the passing of this doomsday event. I agreed. Time seemed to not pass at all as each deafening crack of thunder sent sheer terror through every piece of me. Just when I was ready to surrender to the monster ‘fear’, I

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