A narrative essay on how you spent your last Christmas holiday

Based on a true story

The empty glass clinks alongside filled liquids of rich sour stenches. The sweat that sticks their dangling hairs from escaped traps of rubber tales glued tight to necks. The plastic plates drizzle oil of cooked meats that season tongues to delectable mixtures of fulfilling hunger. The festive mood travels to everybody from a smile to laughter that enriches the moments of a rare get-together.

"I've forgotten just how much I could enjoy myself in the company of loved ones." The sweetheart of the family uncle proclaims, chest hearty with a chirping kid asleep on his lap. He pledges down to his chest a heartfelt confession.

"Oh yeah, well maybe you should come over more often, you do realize we do this usually once a year." The grouchy aunt scoffed, crossing her arms as she smirks slightly towards his cheeky act.

"Well you know I can't make it every time, but I-"

"Will you make it for my birthday Uncle Steven?" The little girl croaks from his lap sleepily.

"why, of course, I come back for you everyday silly. You live with me."

"oh yeah." As she smiles to herself and slowly tucks her small head back to his lap to once again, sleep.

In unison, the family fills the gesture with a response of joy as they build laughter to bounce the entire house. This lovely family, seemingly warm and kindly, but the mirror of themselves lie victim to those not looking to their eyes.

Hatred, disgust, the look of betrayal and grotesque nature of their judgmental gestures; the wicked scowl hidden beneath every soft touch they mean to pinch sour to pain

"sleep now, buddy. You got a long day ahead of you tomorrow." The uncle softly pats the girls head as he raises mashed potatoes to his mouth.

oh? And what's the occasion?" The snarky aunt spits, raising a hand to her mouth.

He slowly places down his fork, a smile plastered up, "We're moving houses,"

"Oh? You didn't tell us anything about that? Where to?"

"Oh, you know, farther from you." He begins.

She threw the table in an instant with her fists close to his jaw.

"Oh? And what do I owe this pleasure of a gesture to." She hisses through closed teeth, announcing her sudden action.

"Oh. You're disgusting cooking." He calmly replies as he cooly sips his tea, whispering soft liquid to his parched mouth and snarky comebacks.

"WELL MAYBE NEXT TIME WHY DON'T YOU COOK FOR US!" She threatens, a coy look on her face.

"I OFFERED BUT I FIGURED WE'D MISS YOUR BEIGE CHICKEN! ALWAYS A GREAT MOTIVATOR TO TURN VEGAN!" He stared back at her, carefully moving the little girls head and placing her on the grandpa's shoulder, he was taking his afternoon nap.

"hmm, shut up you too, the kids are sleeping, so unless you wanna lose sleep, I'd sit down and eat your food." The old, gnarly witch grandmother cackled, poking her chicken slice to bits and pieces for her gums to smack.

The siblings cowered back down at this and proceeded to plaster another smile for the rest of the night.

true

explanation:

many battles and wars (such as the one at gettysburg), are commemorated by statues or monuments, with some areas preserved as monuments and national parks. do you think this contradicts the message of "grass"? in at least 200 words, explain your thinking and cite evidence from the poem to support your opinion.