Tomorrow sunup on that day, a morning full of fog and common c gaga wind, my mother grabbed my hand affectionally, walked me on a long and take colony road. I was accustomed very well and had travelled many times on this bridle-path, but today I found it strange to me. The landscape changed all around me, because my tenderness was with a big change: Today, I am passing game to school.
On that first day, my mother took my hand, leading me on the village brown dirt road to the elementary school which I had never set my eyes on every time I went through the school. The wheat fields beside along the route were like dancing when the wind blew and whispering under the advance(prenominal) sunshine. If I would not have to go to school, I would rate down, waving, touching the sprouts of the wheat, I would roar, chasing the grasshoppers throughout the fields. But today I was stylish in a white shirt and a navy blue shorts. My mom told me that I just looked healthy, neat and very hand approximately, too.
On my shoulder was a backpack with some Russian words that I could not understand. The backpack was bought by my father when he travelled Russia. He also bought me a red plastic water bottle because my father hard put that going to school would have to spell and talk so much and I would get thirsty. I was full of joy, coarse pride and love by my parents.
Yet more than xviii years since the first day of school.
I look at the little room at the end of the hallway, my mother is provision and my father is reading a newspaper. Although I am not a kid anymore and my parents are getting old but they still worry about me every day I am going to school. I put them that I am grateful and proud of being their child. I tell them I...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Orderessay
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