211. A special place
A place of uphill with wild trees and monkeys is my special place: my school, Woodstock. Every moment of my school days has happened in that very location. Climbing up to school every morning in the days of summer or in the days of winter when I used to slip and watch my slippers slide down the road, taking a walk with my beloved ones though sometimes interrupted by a wild group of monkeys, and studying my head off before exams. Everything remains in that place.
I remember the day of first graduation I attended in Woodstock. All I recall is people crying and hugging each other. I wondered why they cried so much. They're moving on to colleges, to places better than this place where there is no monkeys and no climbing; yet why are they crying?
As time passed by, I made friends precious to me more than anything, and I got to know people who taught me about great things in life. I laughed and cried with them over things on the way up to school, in high school building, in red bleachers in front of the music department, and in many other places. Saying goodbyes to people leaving the place itself was really difficult. And now that I've experienced that I miss them everyday of my life, how can I not be sad when I leave this very special place?
Woodstock is part of my life. It has my everything: the memories of happiness, sadness, friendship, love, goodbyes, reunion, music, and so on.
A place of uphill with wild trees and monkeys is my special place: my school, Woodstock. Every moment of my school days has happened in that very location. Climbing up to school every morning in the days of summer or in the days of winter when I used to slip and watch my slippers slide down the road, taking a walk with my beloved ones though sometimes interrupted by a wild group of monkeys, and studying my head off before exams. Everything remains in that place.
I remember the day of first graduation I attended in Woodstock. All I recall is people crying and hugging each other. I wondered why they cried so much. They're moving on to colleges, to places better than this place where there is no monkeys and no climbing; yet why are they crying?
As time passed by, I made friends precious to me more than anything, and I got to know people who taught me about great things in life. I laughed and cried with them over things on the way up to school, in high school building, in red bleachers in front of the music department, and in many other places. Saying goodbyes to people leaving the place itself was really difficult. And now that I've experienced that I miss them everyday of my life, how can I not be sad when I leave this very special place?
Woodstock is part of my life. It has my everything: the memories of happiness, sadness, friendship, love, goodbyes, reunion, music, and so on.
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