Ten Minutes Away From Van Buren Essay
Arkansas. Although this small town is unfamiliar to most people, many travel through it every day. I have lived in the same house there all eighteen years of my life. The brown-bricked, onestory house sits right on the deadly curve across from Key’s Grocery. It is a relatively small house with a long gravel driveway and a black metal fence surrounding the back side of it, which faces the highway.
Our home consists of a kitchen, a living room and dining room, three small bedrooms, and two bathrooms. A short hallway connects the living room and kitchen to the bedrooms and bathrooms on the other end of the house. My parents’ bedroom and my bedroom sit on the side of the house nearest to the highway. A bathroom separates my sister’s room and my room, and her room sits on the side of the house away from the highway.
When I was little, my home had always been a place of comfort and rest, a place of fun and carefree play, but most of all a place where I felt blanketed with safety. Then one winter night in 1990, when I was four years old, a horrible accident changed this safe dwelling place into a place of terror. This accident demolished my home and made it nearly unrecognizable.
My sister and I, along with my parents, went to bed early that night. My sister and I had school the next day, so, as always, we were…