River Brown

I remember in 5th grade having the chance to write fictional narratives.
I remember this feeling of really looking forward to writing and wanting to write made up stories. Suddenly the blue plastic chair just felt more inviting when it was time to write. I recall how I started composing this story about a girl with brown hair (like mine) and from a family full of torturous, annoying brothers (like mine) came across a pair of pants. They looked like your every day, normal sky blue pants. They had back pockets with a cool design sewn on them. The sewing was done in light yellow to contrast with the blue. And the front had pockets too, on the sides. The pants were complete with zipper and gold button. When this girl put the pants on, they fit perfectly.
When she wore them, she didn’t notice anything, but one day when her brothers tortured her, she screamed out of frustration, “I wish you were little so I could pick on you!” Suddenly the brothers disappeared. When her astonishment settled down, she stepped forward and found that her brothers were actually little! She put them in the cage with the hamster, where they ran in the hamster wheel.
The girl then realized that her pants were magic. Any of her wishes would come true when she wore them. I am certain this girl had many other adventures with the pants and that the story ended with her donating the pants to a girl who needed them more than her.
I loved working on this story so much that to fancy it up, I drew a large pair of pants on construction paper and then cut them out and used that as the master to cut out sheets of line paper in the same shape. I enthusiastically rewrote the entire story onto the pant shaped sheets and stapled the whole thing together. This was enjoyable to me, not a pain at all because I knew that I was creating something cool, something that I hadn’t seen done with books.
I remember taking that book home and keeping it amongst my other “treasured” objects for quite some time. I am certain that I re-read it just like other favorite books.
I remember that when time took its toll on the pages and the pants did not look blue anymore, I sadly tossed it. It had been something so dear to me that I missed its presence in my box of coveted items.
I remember that book fondly and admire at how much that experience has stayed with me.