House at Hidden Valley :: essays research papers

My Weekend Family Get-Awaythroughout my childhood I liked to escape from allday routine and be alone with my family or my closest friends. There was the trail in the wood by the old battlefield where I would take my dog for want walks and for a change of scenery. There was the pond where my friends and I would go and rove rocks to see who could get theirs to skip the farthest. These put ins are vivid in my recollection because thats where I would go to lose fun, unless the one military post that sticks out in my memory the most, the place I know bankrupt than anyone, my weekend get-away, was my familys house at Hidden V altogetherey go Resort. While I was growing up I was blessed to have this house to go to on the weekends during the winter. Come Friday I would be so excited because I knew where I would be going, I loved it up there. The sights of the resort, the distinct smell of the house, and the anticipation of the drive up there all contribute to the most vivid and r ealistic memories I remembered about this placeThe excitement that filled my mind was incomprehensible to any person who has never experienced this for them self. The trip up to the house was only an hour but it felt like three or four. Snow would fall on the windshield, then be wiped away by the windshield wipers as we were driving, and every five minutes my mother would scream, Watch out, Jeff, as she would grab the pass over on the door. As we pass through the tollbooth at snuff it 9, my Dad threw the change in the container. From the ting, ting, ting, sound the change made, I knew that we were close. nevertheless twenty more minutes, he would say, then right after my mammary gland would say, Yeah, more like ten the way hes driving. Finally, we would figure out the right hand turn into the resort and drive up the hill. virtually half way I would get a feeling in my stomach not the feeling you get when your nervous, the one you get when your excited. With the source step ou t of the car onto the frozen ground the snow would grind beneath my feet. Sometimes I would get a little in my shoe right between my sock and my pants.