Anh Nguyen 1480 words
9100 St. Charles Rock Road
St. Louis, MO 63114
(314) 493-6100 nguyena829@ritenourschools.org An Angel’s Wellbeing by Anh Nguyen On Sundays, mom talked about what she’ll cook for dinner and Angel played in her little swings in the middle of the park. Dad has always been taciturn and would sit on a pavilion bench talking to mom as they watched over Angel.
There’s a gentle breeze as Angel and I walked hand-in-hand along the cobblestone path. “How is Teddy?” I decided to ask Angel. Teddy is Angel’s beloved pillow. They’ve been pretty much best friends since the day we got him for her fifth birthday. “He’s fine,” Angel nodded. I, of …show more content…
I hate her,” a muffled voice came underneath the blanket.
“I know. I know, sweetheart,” I told Angel. “Well, there’s a reason for everything. Maybe aunt Clara had something terrible that happened to her so she was just in a bad mood. Why don’t we just try to act nicer to her? I’m sure she’ll open up to us.” Angel laid in silence, and after what seems like an eternity, she gave a soft nod. After school, we were on our very best behavior. We cleaned the kitchen. We scrubbed the bathroom. We even made aunt Clara some cookies that mother taught us how to do a few years ago. When aunt Clara came home, she showed no signs of approval. Even if we accomplished everything that she had ever told us to do, there seems to be an endless list as to what we haven’t done. Angel and I were on a loop of never-ending exhaustion.
On Thursday, we decided to clean the dishes. Being 10, Angel had to stand on a little stool next to me to reach her dishes. Her tiny hands also had to work around big, slippery plates. Aunt Clara was watching her television show when a quick mistake came from a slip of the fingers that sent Angel’s plate crashing down onto the floor while she was transporting it to the
9100 St. Charles Rock Road
St. Louis, MO 63114
(314) 493-6100 nguyena829@ritenourschools.org An Angel’s Wellbeing by Anh Nguyen On Sundays, mom talked about what she’ll cook for dinner and Angel played in her little swings in the middle of the park. Dad has always been taciturn and would sit on a pavilion bench talking to mom as they watched over Angel.
There’s a gentle breeze as Angel and I walked hand-in-hand along the cobblestone path. “How is Teddy?” I decided to ask Angel. Teddy is Angel’s beloved pillow. They’ve been pretty much best friends since the day we got him for her fifth birthday. “He’s fine,” Angel nodded. I, of …show more content…
I hate her,” a muffled voice came underneath the blanket.
“I know. I know, sweetheart,” I told Angel. “Well, there’s a reason for everything. Maybe aunt Clara had something terrible that happened to her so she was just in a bad mood. Why don’t we just try to act nicer to her? I’m sure she’ll open up to us.” Angel laid in silence, and after what seems like an eternity, she gave a soft nod. After school, we were on our very best behavior. We cleaned the kitchen. We scrubbed the bathroom. We even made aunt Clara some cookies that mother taught us how to do a few years ago. When aunt Clara came home, she showed no signs of approval. Even if we accomplished everything that she had ever told us to do, there seems to be an endless list as to what we haven’t done. Angel and I were on a loop of never-ending exhaustion.
On Thursday, we decided to clean the dishes. Being 10, Angel had to stand on a little stool next to me to reach her dishes. Her tiny hands also had to work around big, slippery plates. Aunt Clara was watching her television show when a quick mistake came from a slip of the fingers that sent Angel’s plate crashing down onto the floor while she was transporting it to the