Narrative Essay: Anything Can Melt In The Blazing Summer Of 1998?

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Anything could melt in the blazing summer of 1998. Birds went silent; grass stood lifeless; even the old electric fan in grandma’s house seemed ailing and needed an occasional nudge. Everyone in town, including the primetime news, were complaining about the seemingly endless summer, with the exception of me. I found it quite tolerable. In fact, I loved summer. For me, summer was a great opportunity to catch up on some of the longer books on my reading list. Without school or homework, I could finally spend the whole day devouring The Catcher in the Rye, or Dream of the Red Chamber on my couch, only getting up to eat a meal or to use the bathroom. I couldn’t be more content.
One morning, while still in bed, I received a phone call from my
We were brought back to reality by a series of gentle knocks on the door. It was grandma bringing us two glasses of ice lemon teas. She seemed very pleased that her granddaughter had brought home a friend and even more pleased to find the two of us reading together. “Here, have a drink!” she handed us the glasses, “It’s so hot today isn’t it?” We thanked her and took our drinks. Grandma then turned toward me and asked, “I have never seen this friend of yours before. Is she from your new school?” I nodded. Grandma now seemed delighted. “You must be very good friends then. Alrighty, I will leave you two girls alone.” After grandma left for the kitchen, we finished our drinks and went back to
Just her style. And my brief recollection was interrupted. There she was, the ponytail girl, raising her eyebrows and pointing to what seemed to be a very confusing chapter in Dream of the Red Chamber. As I explained to her the historical background of this book and why indeed it had two authors, the meaning of reading suddenly struck me like a heavy downpour in the summer – the social function of reading that I had never thought of. I suddenly came to the realization that reading builds lots of channels of conversations, which not only connects readers to the authors and the characters, but more profoundly, connects like-minded human beings to engage in meaningful discussions. Thoughts are exchanged, new ideas emerge, and friendships blossom all from a social activity we call reading. Thanks to reading, and thanks to my shared moments with the ponytail girl in a blazingly hot summer afternoon and many more afternoons thereafter, I could never feel lonely