Nurturing My Creative Side

One of the joys of higher education is being forced into taking classes with the general population of students.  This semester I have the lovely opportunity of taking a writing class.  With my science background, I am used to writing technically.  Basically it always goes: here is what I think, here are some facts, I was right/wrong.  This class is more of a creative writing class.  I am not the best creative writer.  We are given weekly topics and I have decided to start sharing my submissions with you.  If I can get some pointers from you real writers, maybe I can improve.  This week we wrote write about a drive we normally take.  Here is what I wrote, critique away!

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As I drive away from my house every day, I always experience a rush of anxiety.  Did I remember everything? Did I pack my kid’s lunches? Is Evan’s homework in his backpack? Did I remember to put my snacks in my backpack? Where is my water bottle, phone, wallet?  Usually, I am able to locate all the items on my mental checklist and relax into my daily routine.  I always stop and count the lambs, sheep, and goats.  The horses are free spirits and  may or may not still be around, but sometimes I also get to say goodbye to them.  As I approach the gate, I always wonder when my husband will get around to fixing the automatic opener.  We have had to manually open and close the gate for almost two years now.  I suppose my life could be worse.

Our driveway is the last driveway before the chip and seal ends.  I am thankful we do not live on a dirt road, but our country road is in awful need of repair.  I often pretend I am Princess Peach driving a course on Mario Cart.  I weave my way through the holes, using the entire road to prevent being spun around and sent back to the starting line.  Amazingly, there has never been a serious accident on Finch Road.  Everyone that uses the road seems to be in second place of their mental race and will do anything to receive that gold star when they arrive at their destination.

We live a mile from my oldest son’s elementary school, so I am able to relinquish responsibility quickly of him for the day.  I always smile kindly and wave to the other parents and teachers as I make my way to the drop off point.  There is always one teacher who cannot seem to shut the door completely and forces me to drive with the “door ajar” light flashing on my dashboard.  I could pull over and shut the door myself, but honestly I like the trill of wondering if the door will fly open and the cabin of my car will depressurize and suck all of my stuff out onto the side of the highway.  Thankfully, that has never happened over the three miles to my youngest son’s baby sitter’s house, but it is fun to pretend I am the star of an action thriller for a few moments.

After dropping the youngest child off, I get to experience my first moments of silence.  The next several miles are always my favorite.  They are peaceful.  When I approach the dyke at Lake DeGray, my mind begins to wander.  I always relive all the runs I have completed over that stretch of highway.  During my visualizations, the song from Rocky is always playing, I am much skinnier, and more muscular.  When I drive up the steep hill and my transmission shifts, I can feel my legs burning as I remember how awful it was to run that stretch for the first time and then I smile as I realize how easy the hill has become.  The lovely Iron Mountain sign soon begins to taunt me and tempt me to skip class.  I wish I could spend every day running and biking the trails, but the responsibility of higher education and the desire of money forces me to continue straight and my day dreaming ends as I enter Caddo Valley.

I check my speedometer, set my cruise control, and turn on the radio.  I spend the remainder of my drive planning the rest of my day and catching up on the latest sports stories.

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I know the ending is a little abrupt, but I was dying by the end and just wanted the assignment complete.

What do you think?