Querencia Final Draft

     Living in a house with 8 people and being the youngest one can be very stressful. Everybody can boss you around and their excuse is always, "I'm older than you." If the house has to be vacuumed or if our dog has to be taken out, guess who's doing the job. So sometimes I just want to be alone, but at home, there are no "me" places when you share a room with your brother and you have 7 other people on the other side of the door. My "special" place is outside at the baseball field. There's no one even near me who can yell at me and this is a place I am very familiar to.
     Baseball has been in my life for a huge part of my life. 9 years to be exact. The baseball field has become my second home without the 7 other people in my house telling me what to do. It's just me, my baseball stuff and a big open field. Just standing out on the diamond makes me think of every single time I played on a baseball field. Whether it was a good memory or a bad one, it stays in my mind to always comfort me. Out of all the options of things I can do to relieve my stress, I choose hitting off a tee into the towering backstop in the back of the field. Every swing takes away a little bit of stress off my shoulders and the sound of each ball smashing into the metal fence makes me a little more happy. 
      Since I could go to the park by myself I would go to the field every now and then and clear my mind of all the stress I have by hitting countless buckets of balls. Even when I was really little, my dad would take me to the same field and pitch to me buckets and buckets of balls. This baseball field, diamond or whatever you want to call it is really important to me because it has been my "special" place since I started going there with my dad. I cherish this place and will always remember the good times I had smacking balls.
     Going to my "special" place always made me feel a lot better and less stressed. Just being there on the field makes me feel relaxed. But, I can't stay at my "special" place forever. I always regret going home from the baseball field because I know that I won't get the peace and quiet I get at my "special" place. But, I know that I won't always get what I want. That's why when I go to my "querencia", it is really special to me.

Picture Frame Paragraph

       Rain trickles down the window beside us, but the Joy we have on Christmas Eve helps us forget about all of our surroundings. Although it is only 70 degrees outside, the laughter and hot cocoa fills the room with warmth as if we were covered in a hundred blankets. Mom tells us that it is time for bed, but our excitement for Santa's arrival keeps us up all night. We can't wait for the upcoming events that we have been waiting for for the past 365 long days. It seemed as if this day would never come. Dad finally dials down the Christmas tunes that has been playing since Black Friday. My eyes start to get heavy and I drift away into what seemed like an everlasting slumber.

      The sound of the loud footsteps from my siblings racing to the Christmas tree wakes me from my peaceful sleep. But as soon as I take a look under the Christmas tree for my presents, I am shocked to only see two small boxes with my name on it. My body abruptly explodes with anger, but it quickly fades away as I remember what Christmas is all about. We gather around the breakfast table and thank God for all of the blessings that he gave us throughout the year. I stuff my face with my Mom's world famous Turkey that she saved from Thanksgiving Day. The festivities that we undertake throughout the day completes this truly magical Christmas Day.

Special Querencia Draft

     Living in a house with 8 people and being the youngest one can be very stressful. Everybody can boss you around and their excuse is always, "I'm older than you." If the house has to be vacuumed or if our dog has to be taken out, guess who's doing the job. So sometimes I just want to be alone, but at home, there are no "me" places when you share a room with your brother and you have 7 other people on the other side of the door. My "special" place is outside at the baseball field. There's no one even near me who can yell at me and this is a place I am very familiar to.
     Baseball has been in my life for a huge part of my life. 9 years to be exact. The baseball field has become my second home without the 7 other people in my house telling me what to do. It's just me, my baseball stuff and a big open field. Out of all the options of things I can do, I choose hitting off a tee into the towering backstop in the back of the field.
      Since I could go to the park by myself I would go to the field every now and then and clear my mind of all the stress I have by hitting countless buckets of balls. Even when I was really little, my dad would take me to the same field and pitch to me buckets and buckets of balls. This "special" place is really special to me because it has been my "special" place since I started going there with my dad. I cherish this place and will always remember the good times I had smacking balls.
     Going to my "special" place always made me feel a lot better and less stressed. Just being there on the field makes me feel relaxed. But, I can't stay at my "special" place forever. I always regret going home from the baseball field because I know that I won't get the peace and quiet I get at my "special" place. But, I know that I won't always get what I want. That's why when I go to my "querencia", it is really special to me.

Special Place

     Essays, projects, blogs. All due tomorrow. Stress is building up inside of me. There's only one place where all of my stress temporarily disappears. That very special place is the baseball field. I grab my bat, glove, balls, and a tee and hurry out the door as my mom is yelling at me to do my homework. I'm out the door and I'm standing at the backstop of the baseball field. A towering fence where all of my balls will be hit at. Buckets and buckets of balls are hit, and the scorching sun evaporates the sweat of my head. But, I'm okay with this. This is what goes on at my special place. Endless buckets are being hit, and in my head I know that no one can bother me here. And then there's the ring of my phone. "Mom" is calling and I know what she wants. I have to leave my special place until another day. And back I go to the sleepless and homework filled night.