A soft bundle of fur,
Much better than a cat’s purr,
They’re comforting and kind,
Even if they are blind.
They lick you and rub you,
For whatever you’re going through,
And although they don’t speak,
They’ll help you when you’re weak.
Sometimes they bark,
At home and at parks,
But the speciality of dogs,
Is that they do everything for a cause. Continue reading
My grandparents visit every two years or so in the summer. When I was little, they would rock me to sleep to a lullaby about a little bird. The song says that a little bird glides through the air with her mother. They spread their wings and soar up, down, and all the other directions.
Then, when I grew a bit older, my grandpa made up movements to got with the song. As the song starts, you lift up your arms so they’re in a straight line. Throughout the song, you slowly lift a leg up in the air. By the end of the lullaby, you end up looking like a little bird flying around in the sky.
I’ve remembered every word and pitch to that song to this day. Every night, when I’m having trouble sleeping, I think of the cozy and short song my grandparents sung. My thoughts drift to the image of my grandma and grandpa’s face, and even though my family is visiting them again next summer, I miss them very much.
The leaping, twisting and turning of my body as I dance releases all my worries. It energizes me, but at the same time, it drains me. Sometimes, I feel like I just need a break. I don’t dance all-day, everyday, but it does use up a lot of my time. I use every minute of my time not dancing wisely, but it’s still not enough time to get everything organized. My mom has signed me up for Kumon, and extra math class and a chinese school every week. I don’t see how she thinks I can handle all of this anymore!
Dancing is just like going to sleep or taking a shower: You never want to get into it, but once you’re there, you never want to get out. It’s the same process over and over. I just wish that I could control my life and the choices I make.