Guilt and Depression in Quarrel With Mother: A Personal Analysis

I can't believe this nonsense. I'm glad Im leaving you for college. Well both be happy then. With immense anger and rage, I slam the door completely shut, not letting even the slightest air remain in or escape. With tears of frustration sliding from my red eyes, I head out onto the right of Terrace Avenue, passing four of the vast blocks ahead of me. Finally, my destination was achieved, and alongside, the chain of familiar present houses lives the long-forgotten house, isolated from the community as well as the environment.

Upon approaching the empty home, I hesitate for a few moments, just admiring the scenery. It seems to be like any demolished residence: smashed windows, shingles falling from the roof, and concrete being chipped off from the porch. The once red-colored vinyl sidings of the house are now rotten and fading away with the inevitable arrival of time. As I walk into the yard, I furtively hide in the back of the house, reassuring myself Im not seen as an unknown stranger.

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I walk closer and closer to the center of the yard, searching for the one thing in mind. Between two enormous oak trees is the swing at rest. It looks so alone, almost deserted from the world. Yet, everything is there, but just not seen. The breeze has softly pressed against my lips, feeling the cool wind pass by, and on top of the big trees are young fledglings chirping, getting ready to migrate towards the south.

Still feeling guilty and depressed, I quietly take a seat on the swing, not wanting to disturb the silence around me and begin to reminisce about the past.

I remember the simple misplacement of my notebook becoming into a full-size war with my mother. Suddenly, my brainless comment on leaving, rewinds over and over in my mind, leaving me with only sorrow and regret. For hours, I do nothing but soar through the sky, forgetting all that was said or done. I swing harder, kicking outward while leaning back against the will of the ropes in my hands, causing me to climb higher. My memory kicks in again, but only showing me the four-year-old girl I once was before. I see my little black boots in the air and turn around to see my mother pushing me swiftly, letting me be fearless and unafraid.

After some time, I notice how much time had passed by and decide to go home. Looking out on the horizon, the bright orange sun disappears along the purple-blue sky. Slowly, I stop the force underneath my legs and gently step off the swing, my single retreat to live my dreams and overlook my fears. I walk out of the garden and back into reality I was in. With confidence, I head back home, thinking what I had done and the lesson Ive been taught. I ring the doorbell with tears falling to my cheeks, waiting only for my mother to be at the other side.