Fosdyck Family Descriptive Writing

The Fosdyck family is running through the airport, pulling our suitcases behind us. Parents all around us are doing a mental roll-call to make sure they haven’t lost any little ones along the way. Outside the huge glass windows that line every corridor, airplanes’ engines are heard. We board our flight, kids, parents, and grandparents, and buckle up.
We stayed in a cabin on the beach. When I say beach I mean a rocky, windy shoreline with lots of ocean spray. My brothers played outside and chased down and taunted tiny orange crabs. My grandparents took walks on the coast every evening, and I watched, perched on my tiny balcony.
The grown-ups were big on doing things we couldn’t do in Illinois. Hiking through mountains, seeing the city, and avoiding the sharp shells on the beach were apparently on our to-do
You could see for miles over the grass, trees, gradual acceleration into the city, and the blinding sun just above that. Green was all over, I had never seen that much life before, and little me was amazed.
I spent half of the drive being paranoid that the wild animals would get us. After all, there warnings posted all over the roads. And of course the tracks my brothers had pointed out to me were obviously legitimate.
At one of the stops, my grandpa (who, in my mind, could imitate any animal call extraordinarily well) decided it would be funny to mimic a cougar. I tried pulling my parents to the car - we had to get out of there and protect my youngest brother! - but they soon told me I had been fooled.
We had to have a snapshot of this whole ordeal. My littlest brother completely oblivious to the fear that had been conquering my mind only moments ago, the other one holding a bag of giant marshmallows and refiling his small mouth every time it finished swallowing, and me; a furious look of disgust and annoyance on my young face, refusing to admit defeat and fully look and smile at the