Memoir

Here is an excerpt of something I wrote a few months ago...

My teacher’s legs are so long and willowy coming down from the big old rocking chair. She holds up a card and I see the large M marked onto the construction paper. I wave my arm around in the air. My name starts with an M. It must be my name!

“Not you Michael,” she reproves and holds the card up to a girl picking her nose next to me.
“Melissa, this is your name.”

Melissa turns her head and her wispy blond hair nearly thwacks me in the face. I tuck my small body down to my knees and wonder when I’ll be called.

I glance out the window and see the green leaves fading from the cypress tree. I imagine climbing up it, feeling the wind press against my pale skin as I venture up to the highest point God put in this world of mine. But I don’t dare climb trees. My knees could get skinned; my hands could get cut by the bark. No. I hold the thought in my mind, and grab my blue slacks imagining the material dirty and worn. No, that’s not for me