РефератыИностранный языкEsEscaping Sunday Morning Essay Research Paper Another

Escaping Sunday Morning Essay Research Paper Another

Escaping Sunday Morning Essay, Research Paper


Another Sunday morning is here. The kids are running around the house bored out


of their


minds. They are throwing their basket balls against the wall, and waiting for me


to finish the


laundry so we can go to the park. We don?t have much of a lawn to play in. I


lean against the


washer, exhausted. I begin to daydream as I take the clothes out. I open the


dryer door, and climb


in. I am getting into a Land Rover at the foot of a steep rocky mountain. It


transports my loved


ones and I up an inclination on a narrow winding road. The air is full of mist


and bewilderment.


The sun is setting over the horizon, and an extensive magnitude of colors adorn


the evening.


Burgundy and violet blanket the lowering sun. After a stimulating ride we


arrive. The majestic


structure is breathtaking. A castle, crafted of sturdy grey rock waits for us.


Gargoyles


overshadow the colossal front entrance. Carvings decorate the vast amounts of


spherical towers


and rigid corners. It is definately a magical place. It is very peaceful. There


is no clamor of our


normal everyday life. I don?t hear anything. Even the trees surrounding the


castle are lifeless and


inanimate. They stand, unmoving like soldiers protecting us from the world.


Inside, the main foyer is wide and extends several feet. Antiquated


furnishings and elegant


tapestries compliment the sentiment we feel. Brilliant gold and warm greens


intermingle with the


dark marble flooring. Above is a massive glimmering chandelier, made of fine


crystals. I am a


child at recess as I explore the maze of hallways abundant with bedrooms, dens,


and closets.We


are obviously the first occupants in a long stretch of time. I pursue one of the


sleeping quarters.


The bedding has not been slept in. There is a collection of dust and cobwebs in


various corners.


An eerie feeling creeps over me, and intrigues me at the same moment. There are


impressive stone


fireplaces in almost every room. I can envision myself spending a lot of time


cuddling with my


beloved in front of a warm crackling fire. The canopy bed is soft and inviting.


The blankets and


sheets are royal blue. There is an antique oak dresser. In my travels, I realize


that all the rooms are


decorated with different themes of colors.


I ventured toward one of the many staircases. They are spiral and steep.


The clanging


noise as I climb, echos through the desolate hallways. They are black , and cold


to the touch. I


have a steep and vast view of my surroundings. I know it will be hard to leave.


I can hear my son


running and playfully yelling throug

h the corridor, creating conversation with


each of the many


portraits he passes on the way. I let out an uncontrollable burst of laughter. I


am not sure if it is


that he is so humorous, or if I am overwhelmed by the mystique. I shout down to


him, ?I will be


upstairs if you need me!? He replies, ?OK, Mommy. This place is cool!? I reach


the peak of the


staircase. There are several quarters I could investigate. I choose the closest.


It is an over-sized


washroom. Adjacent to the naturally toned far wall is an impressively large


claw-foot bathtub. A


matching beige sink and flush toilet adjoin the neighboring wall. I could fit an


army of people in


this one room. A long hot bubble bath would be wonderful. I can imagine the


steam rising, and


covering the large oval-shaped mirror over the sink. I would light a vanilla


candle, turn the lights


off, and soak for hours. With my arms crossed, eyes closed, and a grin on my


face, I am lost in


this thought for a while.


I casually make my way back downstairs. My curiousity is sparked by a


smell similar to


cleaning solutions. I find my way into a large illuminated kitchen. It it


suitable to cook for royalty.


A diverse collection of shiny pots, pans, and other cooking utensils hang from


the ceiling. The


refrigerator could fit an iceberg. I open the door and am overcome by a white


rush of cold. I spot


a bottle of champagne inside, and several packaged meats in the freezer. They


are compliments of


the host. It must have been prepared recently, because I could eat off the


floors if I so desired.


The floor is brilliant white tile, sparkling with cleanliness. As I exit, I


notice a doorway to my left.


I open it. To my amazement, I see a room wall-to-wall with books. This is the


largest collection I


have seen other than in a public library. The bindings are mostly dark blue,


green, and red,


amongst the sprinkling of dust and lint. There are old wooden ladders reaching


up to the tops of


multi-leveled shelves. I notice a brass rotary telephone sitting atop a lengthy


antique pine desk,


complimented by a brown leather reading chair. I could stay in here for hours,


but I need to


unpack and find my family. As I reach the main entrance, they are waiting for


me, rifling through


bags and boxes they had brought along. We look at each other and smile. All I


can muster out of


my speachless mouth, is a quaint-spoken ?Wow.? My son sums up the entire


experience for us


perfectly with an excited and sincere, ?Can we stay here forever, Mommy? Are we


going to stay


here forever Mommy? Mommy?? I look at him, and throw my laundry on the floor.

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