Final Draft- A Day to Remember

Article: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/22/world/middleeast/22mideast.html





It was an early morning, the golden sun rising in between the worn mountain ridges. The white curtains were pulled to the side letting the sun stream through the window. The Palestinian girl kicked the white linen covers to the bottom of the bed. Her slippers were off to the right on the worn gray wood floor. The squeaky wooden door flew open, into a hallway that led into the kitchen. The brown skinned girl reached into the old fashioned fridge for Florida orange juice. She reached for the paint chipped cabinets for a clear glass cup; the cup was brought down to the counter. She held the cup with her left hand as the juice poured like a waterfall into the glass. Kelly walked threw the living room to the screen door. The living room had nick knack antiques scattered about, pottery and religious Hindu items. She swung the door open and bent down to get the newspaper. Kay-short for Kelly heard the little boy on his blue bike peddle back down her dusty road. She hollered to him a simple thank you. He tilted his hat down to her. 




Kelly opened the swinging door with her big toe. She read the headlines slowly “Israel Allows Some Supplies into Gaza”. She glanced down to read the caption of the picture, “Palestinians waited to buy bread from a baker in the Gaza Strip Monday”. She looked back at the picture and saw a man with a beard holding a bag. He was putting several pieces of cake batter colored bread into it. Then she saw on the other side several men of all ages reaching into the bakery. Which consisted of a window, almost as if it were a drive though. There were two boys in the window, squirming to get their bread. The picture displayed an endless line of people scattered about. Several men were huddling waiting to catch a moment to be able to slip in the line and place their order. 



Kelly was fascinated by the story. She read the rest of the article, briefly. She then chugged the rest of the “o.j”, spilling a few drops onto her lightly cream colored robe. She bolted into the bathroom, turned on the hot water and hoped into the shower. Kelly opened the door, wearing tight jeans with a small hole in her left thigh, a white button down oxford and her hair dried naturally into her rich thick hair. She had put on a pair of simple turquoise earrings. Kelly dove into the guest room and pulled out a brown leather bag, packing the basics. Then, walked into the living room and grabbed a pair of Adidas running shoes and slipped those on. She locked the door and darted down the rickety stairs to her right. A slip was pulled off the car; it was an old chrome yellow Jeep Wrangler with two very thin gray stripes on the side. The engine started; all that was to be seen was a car zooming down the dirt road for the city and an excited twenty four year old screaming at the top of her lungs to her favorite music. 


She was so fascinated by the story she wanted to make a difference, by helping pass out foods and supply new goods to Gaza. A quick phone call was made to a local volunteer center. Her name and information was in the files and she was ready to work. She drove into the city, and spotted several designated areas where help was needed. Several kids stood around the girl as she passed out simple foods. Kelly whipped out her camera to remember that moment. She looked around; the worn clothes the children were wearing. Kelly then passed out foods, several new t-shirts and shoes made from recycled plastic. Kelly returned home and printed out the photos in black and white from earlier that day. The first thing she noticed were the bright smiles the children had when they received the new items. A small tear dropped from her rosy cheek, the smiles were all that mattered to Kelly Roberts.