Review Draft Essay 1

Crystal Miranda

Professor Hayes

English 1A.15

27 September 2013

Essay 1: Placing Oneself, Review Draft

Word Count: 577

The Sunday after a party at my Aunt Josy’s and Uncle Luis’ house in Atwater is always calm and relaxed. It begins as the morning glow starts to peek through the battered, red drapes and into the living room, exposing makeshift beds in which my cousins and I will nurse our hangovers until noon. From here, I have a clear view of the kitchen because there is no wall to separate it from the living room. My Aunt Josy is always the first one awake and the kitchen is her first destination. She spends all morning compulsively making eggs, French toast, and reheating the dinner from the night before. Around 8:30 am, my dad emerges from one of the bedrooms and quietly makes his way to the door, closing it slowly behind him so no one is woken up. When he returns, he will have two pink boxes filled with doughnuts, a tradition he started and continues to honor. The people who have to work that day hastily try to step around us as they prepare for the two-hour drive back to the Bay Area. 

 As the frosty morning fades into a humid afternoon, the last of us finally wake up. Some of us gather around the counter table, reliving the night before through each other’s vicarious tales over milk, doughnuts, and anything else we might find on the cluttered countertop. The counter table is surrounded by only three wooden stools, so most of us stand while we eat. Two Yorkies scavenge the area around our feet, hoping for the careless among us to spill a few crumbs. My cousin Alonzo, their owner, has to keep calling them away from us, fearing that they might ingest something that could make them sick. Eventually, he gets up from the couch he has been monopolizing, scoops them both into one of his arms, and lays back on the couch with them. When we are finished eating, some of us lay down on our blankets again while the rest of us sit on the other couch. Both couches are worn down, not from maltreatment, but from years of my aunt and uncle’s generous hospitality.

The house remains dim throughout most of the afternoon, with the only light sources shining from the windows and a single light in the kitchen. The dull lighting makes the temperature of the house seem cooler, a refuge from the sweltering Atwater weather for us Bay Area natives. Outside, the children play in the pool. My brothers and some of my cousins usually join them. A couple of my aunts and uncles sit under the shade of a tree and chat while they babysit the younger children.

Figure 1. My brother and cousins playing in the pool.

I spend the rest of the afternoon in the living room, accompanied by the others who chose not to spend their day baking under the scorching sun. The television is turned on, but no one is watching because our conversations are more entertaining.

As the afternoon drifts into early evening, more people start heading home. The house slowly becomes quieter and lonelier. My dad, brothers, and I are usually among the last to leave. Reluctantly, we stuff our backpacks and suitcases in our car and thank my aunt and uncle for everything they have done for us. As we drive away and their house is hidden behind an array of trees, I am already looking forward to the next party that will be followed by the Sundays like these.