From the Writer#39s Desk free essay sample

On Anitas desk, 12/15, 6:06 p.m.: About 35 blank, folded printer-paper cards with names written in the corners with light pencil; statistics, history, and biology textbooks nearly hidden by the cards; a calendar marking today as the first day of winter vacation; a half-full cup of oolong tea, lukewarm; a list of people who have shown Anita new perspectives, made her laugh, or stopped her from doing something unimaginably embarrassing in the past year. On Anitas desk, 12/17, 3:12 p.m.: Eraser shavings and broken pencil tips; the aforementioned printer-paper cards on which there are now pencil-sketched  ­characters ranging from Davy Jones to Mulan to a sleepy-looking panda; a worn, incomplete box of 64 Crayola crayons; the remains of a ginger snap, baked by Anita and her sister earlier that day; a shopping list that includes postage stamps, envelopes, and Cheerios. On Anitas desk, 12/19, 9:34 a.m.: An explosion of crayon fragments, smudgy papers, and waxy, colorful homemade holiday cards; a list of addresses, some of them copied onto envelopes; a page of stamps, the kind that do not require licking; three nice gel pens lined up in preparation for the next few days; a bowl, formerly holding Cheerios, that Anita forgot to load into the dishwasher. We will write a custom essay sample on From the Writer#39s Desk or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page On Anitas desk, 12/21, 11:57 p.m.: Cards with almost-dry ink comics, raps, and poems inside, along with a brief thank-you message; one card with a dinosaur on the front bears a slam-poetry-style calculus verse: â€Å"Bens a good kid and wants to stay alive/Instead of makin MADD mad, hell think and derive/Never panicked on group quizzes, calmed Anitas nerves/Now were friends even closer than tangent lines on curves.† On Anitas desk, 12/23/10, 6:09 a.m.: Forlorn, unused envelopes and stamps; all the cards have disappeared to a mailbox outside, weathering the sharp raindrops in a tin shelter as Anita dances back across the street, up the stairs, and through the front door in a whirl of contentment, exhaustion, and ink-stained fingers; the desk is mostly empty. On Anitas desk, 12/28, 8:19 p.m.: A cell phone (which Anita rarely answers), its screen glowing comfortingly in the quiet house, playing voice messages: â€Å"Hey, Anita. Hope winter break is going great for you too. Thanks for the card. I loved the history jokes; you know me too well. See you soon!† â€Å"I tried to write a rap for you, but I decided it might not be as good as yours, so let me just say you are the coolest kid ever.† â€Å"Anita, your card reminds me of how we spent our study-group time drawing fish †¦ I wonder why? Thanks.† On Anitas desk, 12/28, 8:21 p.m.: Anitas arms, propping up her chin as she stares dreamily at the pink-and-green wallpaper, reassured that at least some generosity has been recycled and spread farther in the form of grins, silly poems read aloud, and printer-paper-and-crayon cards displayed on the mantelpiece.