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By Olivia
Recent graduate of The Phoenix School

Back when small curled piggy tails protruded from my head and my wardrobe consisted of frilly pink dresses, I remember when my pre-school took our annual trip to Brooksby Farm. All of us tiny people were wrangled into a big yellow school bus and shipped away with a small snack of Saltine crackers.

This day in particular was the perfect fall day. The leaves burned yellow, orange, and red like a wild fire. The wind was a soft whisper echoing through the trees. Sun beat down on us as we bumbled around the tall apple trees making sure to only pick the apples off of the ground. This, was a real challenge, for most of the apples were bashed or bruised, or had worms crawling through the inside, and since young kids are competitive a sort of a competition broke out to find the most perfect apple.

I busied myself, searching everywhere for this precious perfect apple, my pigtails bobbing like mad, until….. I slowly lifted up a twig and some small leaves to find sitting before me the winning apple. It was big, bigger then my own little hands. It gleamed the brightest red and was untainted by a single bruise or speck of dirt. I was elated! It was not possible that anybody could find a more perfect apple then mine. I had surely won in the quest to find the perfect apple.

Before I had the time to brag and boast, we had to board the bus and return home, fed once again those two measly Saltine crackers. As we bobbed along the road I held so covetously in my hands the prize apple. We kept riding and a chorus of The Wheels on the Bus had broken out among my friends, but I was too enthralled in my apple to join them in song. Just as I had slowly loosened my tight grip on my apple we hit a pothole. Up popped the bus, and up I flew. There rolled my perfect apple smacking the floor, and landing right underneath the dirt smeared sole of a classmate’s shoe. I was incredibly distraught by the sight of my bruised and dirty apple, but that day I learned the hard way to always hang tight to my apples.

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