Posts Tagged nonfiction
One night, a noise woke me up.
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I wriggled around to free myself from the blankets that Nagymama tied to the mattress with shoelaces, and climbed over the fortress of chairs that my family put around the bed to insure that I wouldn't fall out of bed.
I looked around and realized that I wasn't at home at all! I was in an old spooky castle with brown stone walls that climbed for miles and cobwebs that blanketed every corner. I tried to peer out a window, but I wasn't tall enough to reach the ledge. All I could see was hints of a dark purple sky and the sliver of a moon.
"Anyu?" I called, as my voice echoed down the empty corridor.
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It was coming from behind a closed door.
I slowly crept towards the door, my bare feet chilled by the bumpy stone floor. I slowly turned the doorknob and peered inside. It was nothing but a closet full of Nagymama's doilies and tablecloths embroidered with hundreds of...
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This is part 2 of The Shopping Nightmare.
As my mother, aunt, cousins, and I walked through the echoing halls of the Middlesex Mall, I was relieved that poking, prodding and shopping had finally come to an end. I looed forward to going home, where I had already started to color the inside of a cardboard box to look like the solar system for a "Barbie Space Mission".
I dreamed of all the stars
(glow in the dark stickers), asteroids
(rocks from the driveway) and comets
(bouncy balls with streamers attached to them) as my eye happen to glimpse what I thought to be the most amazing site any six-year old could see. Before me stood a brand-new 25 cent machine, taller than a 10-year old, with a series of slides and levers that lead up to hundreds of sparkly, semi-transparent, super-bouncy rubbed balls. My eyes lit up and I ran towards the contraption. At that moment, I knew that one of these bouncy balls would have to be the “Sun” in my Barbie galaxy.
“Anyu, Anyu, can I please please please have a ball...
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As a child, I hated shopping more than going to the dentist. That didn’t stop my mom and aunt from spending hours in discount clothing stores, going through every item on the 75% off clearance wrack to find “the deal”.
To relive my painful boredom, I hid in the circular clothing racks, and dove out to scare people as they walked by. I found this HILARIOUS, but it embarrassed my two teenage cousins, and downright horrified my mother .
“Don’t you dare valk avay from me and talk to strangers! Somevon vill steal you!”
She dragged me by the arm into the dressing room to watch them try on clothing. They always managed to concoct ensembles adorned with zebra print, leopard spots, tiger stripes, or some unholy combination of the three. Of course, someone would always discover some awful outfit for me, and this time it was red sweat pants and a hideous pink sweater with a gold glitter bow on it and intricate fake pearl beading; you know, the kind that blind seventy-five-year olds wear. The outfit made me look...lumpy.
“Look at that fat butt!” my aunt...
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On November 4th, 2008, I called my mother.
"Vhat's dah story?"
"Hey, Anyu, can't talk long, do me a favor. I need you to go to the high school and stand in line for the special booths with the buttons in them. I need you to hit the button that says O-B-A-M-A, it's really a good idea."
I typically avoid discussing politics with family because we are on polar opposite sides of the fence. Some might argue that we are on opposite freaking time zones of the fence. Still, the terror of having a plucky hockey mom end up a potential world leader clouded my judgement, and I actually started the conversation.
After a long pause, my mother let out a sigh.
"No, Stephie, I don't tink so."
"No, really, it's a great idea! And if you go to the voting machines, you can wear something nice and maybe run into some cute single guy. So, you should go, before they close! Don't forget your ID."
"So, vhen are you comink home? Don't forget it's Irina's birthday soon."
"Stop changing the subject. Why won't you vote? Even if it isn't...
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It was a muggy summer day in August when I helped my mother and grandmother load in some groceries from the car. Even something as simple as grocery shopping is an ordeal in the Yuhas household.
"Come inside, it's raining, you'll catch your death!" Nagymama hollered from inside.
"Hold on, Nagymama, I need to bring in the ice cream, it's melting everywhere!"
As I was placing soggy groceries on the kitchen table, Nagymama grabbed my shirt and lifted it up. She gasped when she saw my exposed stomach."Undershirt! Undershirt! It's raining and you're not wearing an undershirt - you're kidneys are exposed and you are going to catch pneumonia!"
"Nagy, I haven't woken up in a bathtub full of ice lately, so don't worry, my kidneys are still inside of my body."
On my way back out, I noticed that "Bob" (the Bag of Bags) had been left hanging on the tree outside. Everyone I know has a "Bob" that has grown huge from many trips to the shopping mall. “Bob” is useful for everything from yard trimmings to recycling to your dead hamster, Bubbles.
"Mom, you forgot...
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One night, a noise woke me up. 
