My First Time Home :: essays research papers

Shining b justlyly, in the darkness below the clouds, the lights of tall buildings arise up to meet us. As the plane turned toward Logan airport my presentiment grew I became anxious, squirming in my seat. The giant Citgo condense, the Prudential, Copley Plaza, Long wharf, and Fenway Park were lit up, and my sense was filled with nostalgic memories that made the descent longer. Bump, thump, bump, thump went my heart as we lowe flushed to the ground. I felt butterflies rise up in my belly fluttering about like a small circus. My font grew red as my smile grew wider. The excitement grew I was unable to speak. My body started shaking, if anyone fey me, I would have exploded. Beep, beep went the seat belt sign, and I entering from my chair, annoying all of the more patient passengers around me, yanked the overhead compartment door. Click, it was open, grabbing my backpack, I dashed up the ramp into the terminal. My starting signal victory I was the first off the plane.      Running down the hallway bump, bump, bump, bump, my heartbeat quickened with the pace of my footsteps. The quality of Starbucks cappuccino filled the air, cell phones of all colors in hand, beep, beep, beep went the pagers, my boyfriends face was warm and bright, my smile grew inches upon seeing him. I ran to his arms, outstretched. As he throw up squeezed me, my fantasy, my imagination, became reality I was blank space for the weekend. He opened the car door, stepping in, I grabbed the cell phone, and I was off. Quickly dialing, beep, bop, beep, boop, perpetuallyy number I had ever known, "Hi is Kat home? Will you tell her Melissa called? Yeah, Im home for the weekend Schools fine Bye." Hitting the "clear" button with my left hand, my right hand began reaching and pushing the familiar, preset buttons, on the car radiocommunication fourteen wonderful stations, all playing various types of rocknroll, alternative, and popular euphony, I knew I was in a metropolitan area, for the only country music stations were at the far end of the dial.     We pulled onto "Salem Street", the sign had not changed, green with white lettering, with rust stains on the upper corners. At night the breeze cools over my back and I relish the flavor air from the North Shore. Walking up to the doorway I truism the familiar lights, the kitchen was bright, blue everywhere, the countertops filled with leftovers from dinner that evening.