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76-10, 174th street, Fresh Medows, New York

Fresh Meadows

On cold winter days my feet freeze as I get out of the house. The snow slowly melts as I touch it with my cold hands. The thin ice cracks as I step on it. On cool crisp Spring days, when the patches of dry grass awaken and begin to blossom and the birds are chirpping away merrily I feel as if I just bit into a juicy apple. Whatever type of day, the day decides to be, the same thing happens. In the morning as I walk down the street, whether in a rush or not, as I pass my Indian neighbor who has a small dog. Then I pass the cosiest looking house. It has red bricks, which are cracked and chipped, but it looks as alive as they were when they were first put in place. The grass is lush green and when it snows it seems as if it's green underneath the snow. Then comes the tree path. When you first walk into it, you feel protected. Whether in pouring rain or in the middle of the blazing hot summer, the trees provide a shade like an umbrella. The trees seem to bow before you as you walk by. As you get out of the little path, the sun or the rain comes back. But everything clears, and ahead of you is only a pathway. As I pass the next hous which I call "the middle house", since it is in the center of the long block. Everyday as I come to the same exact car, with the same exact man behind the wheel. Every morning he says hello. Nothing more than a simple hello. I always return his greeting. Then I come to a house, the second to last house to be exact with a LARGE tree in the right corner. It is a pine tree. Sadly, they never decorate it for Christmas. If they did decorate it, it would be very beautiful, and it would outshine any other light. As I turn the corner of the street, I hear the honking and swishing of cars of the main road. As one reaches the end of the block, one does not relize what they have been through. To me this place will always be one of my wonders of the world.

The story was posted on 2004-03-26