So, for my final creative nonfiction essay, I decided to take my first essay, and change the perspective and content a bit. This piece is going to be a sequel to my first project, and told in my dad's point of view. Here's a section of it that I've been working on:
Dora the Explorer echoes from the living room, as I pull out the pan of chicken from the oven. After receiving a steamed-facial from the heat of the stove, the cool draft of air from the opened backdoor feels welcoming.
"Kayla!" I yell, getting out the digital food scale and plates. Pushing the power button, I think of how happy I was that Melinda got this for me for our anniversary. It measures food perfectly. Kayla comes out, cell phone always glued in her hands, and stands at the kitchen door, as I scoop out a few pieces of chicken onto a plate.
"Okaaaay, that's six points, andd..." I reach up to grab the broccoli, steamed to perfection in its Ziploc bag, out of the microwave. "...and with this, the whole plate is seven points." She starts measuring out her two tablespoons of the Chili sauce she likes for her chicken--I don't know how she eats it, it would probably burn my tongue off. I eat my chicken plain, lately.
"Thanks Dad," and she walks back into the living room, where Landon is probably still glued to the television, following Dora and Boots on their adventure. I quickly measure my chicken and broccoli out, a habit that I don't even realize I do anymore, and walk into the living room, sitting next to Kayla at the table. She's already halfway done with her plate; I shake my head, thinking she really needs to learn to slow down.
"So what do you want to interview me about for this essay?" I ask, cutting up the chicken with the side of my fork. Landon comes waddling over, juice cup in his hand. "Buggy, want some broccoli?" I ask. He shakes his head and goes back to Dora.
"I don't know, just tell me whatever you want," she says, making a piece of chicken glide through the leftover sauce on her plate. I smile, remembering something she'd probably find amusing.
"Well the other day, I was finishing the laundry, and after I was done folding everything into piles, I started freaking out, I couldn't find my jeans," I said, eating some broccoli.
"Yeah? Where were they?" she asked, starting to stand up to clear her plate.
"I mean, I knew I washed a pair of my jeans, I just couldn't find them. Here...I folded them and automatically put them in Melinda's pile...because I thought they were hers, that's how small they looked." I glanced at her and smiled, still in shock.
"Wow Dad, that's awesome! That's nuts..." She couldn't stop smiling, her mouth open in surprise.
"Yeah, can you believe that?" I chuckle, as she yells, "Wow" again from the kitchen. I glance at Landon, still laying there, content with his show, and take another bite of chicken.
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