The title of the essay is "Life worth living". It's our EAP class's creative writing title. Hope you guys can read it carefully and maybe give me some comments. ^__________________^
LIFE WORTH LIVING
It was a beautiful day
when I opened my eyes and stepped out of my dreamland. The sun’s rays that
found its ways through my curtains filled my room with light that warmed my
heart. I laid in bed, thinking of what I was going to do that day. The patterns
in the ceiling seemed to be smiling at me, trying to hint something at me. It
was a special day and my heart was fluttering like the wings of a butterfly.
With
high spirits, I got out of bed and stepped into the bathroom to get ready for
the day. I could hear the sparrows singing a cheerful tune out the window as I
turned on the tap. Water flowed out freely, wetting my hands while I reached
for my toothbrush.
“Ding-dong!”
The doorbell rang suddenly, interrupting the sparrows and my daily morning
routine.
I
rushed to finish brushing my teeth but the visitor was not as patient as I
thought.
“Ding-dong!”
Once more, the doorbell rang. I hurried down the stairs two steps at a time,
careful not to knock down the potted plants at the sides of the steps.
“Parcel
for Miss Watson!” It was the postman. I smiled a sweet ‘thank you’ smile at him
and signed the papers he gave. After shutting the door, I took a good look at
the address. It was from New Delhi, India. At that moment, I immediately knew
who it was from. The sides of my lips crawled up into a smile while setting the
parcel down on my coffee table.
I
went about my breakfast, continuing to make my coffee and egg sandwich. The
house was filled with the delicious smell of coffee beans and toasted bread
that teased my stomach. Taking my breakfast to the living room, I set them down
just next to my parcel. With my breakfast next to me and a very excited heart,
I started to open the toaster-sized parcel in front of me.
Not
more than a blink of an eye, there was a letter, a photograph and a piece of
clothing in place of the parcel. I looked closely at the photograph. It was at
the Taj Mahal, with many boys posing smartly. The former wonder of the world
stood majestically at the back of the group of boys. I smiled knowing that he
was safe and sound even though he was halfway across the earth.
Putting
down the photograph, I went to read the letter. The handwriting looked so
familiar and hit so close to home. Suddenly I started to miss him badly but
ignoring the nag in my heart, I continued to read the letter. It was good to
know that his trip was fine and full of adventures. His jokes were still as
stale as a block of cheese but I found it funny and cute
The
piece of clothing he sent was actually an Indian saree which was pink and
purple in colour. There was also a note attached that said, “This is a
traditional Indian dress called a saree. Put it on when I get back. I can’t
wait to see your beautiful face.” I felt on cloud nine, smiling to myself like
a Cheshire cat.
I
set down the items and in my mind raced through a thousand memories. He was my
best friend whom I trust and love so deeply. He filled my life with hope, warmth
and happiness when I had been in total darkness and depression. I owed almost
my whole life to him and I was most grateful for all the things he had done for
me.
I
stood up and went to grab my coat from the coat rack. A glance at the clock
told me it was a quarter to nine in the morning. As I put on my boots, I opened
the door to go about my errands. I looked at the bustling streets of Piccadilly
and saw people of many kinds running about living their own lives.
People
work in mysterious ways. The way we look at life and its repercussions are so
powerful. How other people can manipulate it is even more powerful. As I passed
the corner onto St. James’ street, I thought to myself, “If this is not a life
worth living, what is?”