“ write about your best day ever “ my teacher said last Thursday. I looked around the classroom and saw everyone else talking with their friends trying to figure out which day they would write about. I on the other hand didn't need to think about it in the least. I got out a my favourite blue pen and and pink notebook and started to write.
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The best day of my life happened 2 years ago on September 27 2012. It was a wet rainy day, and the most anyone could do was go to the mall with they're friends, or stay at home. I guess you could go outside, but no one did. I was at home with my parents and we were watching a movie. I don't remember the movie anymore, I just remember that it made me cry and my mother had to hold me for a while after it ended.
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About half and hour after the movie finished my mother decided we all needed some cheering up, so we went out for dinner. As we all got in the car, mom and dad in the front, me in the back, my dad started up the engine and the car started to move. As we drove my mom told me stories about how her and dad used to play outside in the rain on days like this. She said her parents would always get mad at her afterwards because she would come home soaking wet. I laughed and she laughed, even dad laughed. He said that his parents would be angry at him too, but not for the same reasons. He said they would be mad because he took an innocent girl outside in the cold and probably got her sick. He kept protesting that she wasn't sick, but they wouldn't buy it.
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When we finally arrived at the restaurant, everyone was in good spirits despite the cold weather. As we came into the restaurant, a waitress came over and took us to a table. A couple hours later we were done eating and we drove back home.
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Before bed that night, mom made me some warm milk and her and dad came and tucked me in. They both said they loved me and gave me hugs and kisses, then they left and I fell asleep.
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Now I don't know if that was my best day ever, but I do know that it’s one I will never forget.
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I handed in my letter, right when I heard the bell ring to signal the end of the school.
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The next day everyone had finished their assignments and had handed them in to the teacher.
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“ okay boys and girls “ she said in her teacher voice. “ today we are going to read our stories to the class.”
Unlike some of the other students in the class, I didn't mind reading my story for them. I actually quite enjoyed sharing my experiences with others, I just didn't do it very often.
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When the teacher asked for volunteers, I didn't raise my hand. Some one else did though and then someone else after them. About half an hour later everyone had gone, Except for me.
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My teacher called me up and told me to start whenever I was ready. I took the paper in my hand up to the front of the room and started to read aloud.
When I had finished my teacher asked me the same question she asked everyone else before me: why was this day so special to you?
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I didn't hesitate for one second. I knew the answer to this question the second my teacher told us to write this story.
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“ it was their last day, so for me it was the most important.”
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My teacher looked at me a bit confused and said, “ what do you mean it was their last day?”
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This time I did hesitate. I haven't told this story since the police officers asked me what happened two years before.
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“ my parents died the next day, so that was the best day for me... Because it was the last day I had with them, and to me it was a good day.”
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My teacher looked a bit stunned for a moment, and then I saw a tear roll down her face. I couldn't understand why she was crying. It's not like she ever knew my parents or anything. To be honest she barely knew me. I didn't talk much in class, and I went straight home after school. Suddenly I started thinking more about how the last people who really did know me were my parents, and my friends from my old school. I had pushed them all away because they reminded me too much of the time when my mom and dad were here.
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I never understood the expression of someone's " knees buckling " until that very moment when my own knees decided to give up on me, and I fell to the ground. Tears started falling down my face, either from the pain of falling down, or the pain of thinking of the past, I wasn't sure anymore. I was so lost in my own thoughts and pain that I didn't notice the two arms that wrapped around me. I didn't notice being picked up off the ground and being carried across the school to another room. I didn't notice my teacher trying to calm down the class of children who were all crying now, finally realizing the pain of my story. Pain. So much pain that I had caused talking about my ' best ' day. The last thing that I did notice, was that I was lying on something soft when the world finally blacked out.
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