Grasshopper Summer

Essential Question: Can perspective change during narrative writing to give a more complete look at the true story?

Today’s attempt: Switch perspectives during Slice of Life without confusing the reader.

This is a story (with elaboration) that I heard many times from my mom and her brothers from their childhood.

Grasshopper Summer

                I smoothed the frilly yellow dress that Mother had left on my dressing chair with my freshly washed hands.

                “Ugh,” I thought. “I hate this dress.” I pulled on a clean pair of knee high socks and slipped into my black and white saddle shoes. I tried to run to the door, but the clicking of my shoes gave me away.

                “Karen!” Mother called. “Your hat!” and she plopped the matching frilly yellow hat onto my head and tied the choking silk ribbon under my chin.

                “Yes, Mother,” I groaned.

                David and Roger horse-played by us and reached the front yard first. I wiggled free and followed them as they opened their Insect Hotel jars.

                We tiptoed around the yard, sneaking up on hopping insect friends, capturing them by gently cupping a hand in front and the other behind.

                When my Hotel had four hoppers in it, I laid down on my tummy to watch them.

                “Come on,” I coaxed. “Do something interesting.”

                She stared through the glass with her creepy little green eyes, shaking the glass prison from time to time, causing my fellow inmates and me to lose our balance and hop upon the backs of the others. Then she started unscrewing the top, and we jumped with excitement thinking freedom was approaching.

                Much to our dismay, she took us out one by one with her grubby little fingers sprinkled with dirt and stained with grass, and slipped a noose around each of our necks.

                It didn’t matter. Once we felt the cool smooth texture of grass, we started hopping. We could see the other two prison guards follow this one’s lead. She must be the one in charge.

                Every now and then, as we tried to hop to freedom, we felt a tug on our necks and were jerked in another direction. Escape seemed impossible, but we didn’t give up. We passed by yard after yard filled with human children playing, and as they saw the Guards, they joined in.

                After what seemed like days, we were back at the clear prison walls, fighting harder and harder to hop away.

                “Karen! David! Roger! Lunchtime!” Mother hollered from the door. “Leave those bugs outside!” she added as I started returning my hoppers to their hotel.

                “But –“

                “No buts! No bugs in the house,” and the screen door slammed behind her.

                David, Roger and I looked at each other and smiled.

                “Is it time?” I asked.

                “It’s time!” they replied with twinkles in their blue eyes.

                We’d been down this path before. After our Grasshopper Parades, we had not been successful in untying their little leashes, so we had gotten better at making slip knots to speed up the release.

                Pop! Pop! Pop! Grasshopper heads flew this way and that. We squealed and laughed as we jumped out of the way so we didn’t get covered in grasshopper goop.

                “Wait!” my best friend Lynn yelled just as I prepared to pop the head off my last pet. “I want it,” she said as she reached out for the leash.

                I shrugged and handed it to her.

                “Just don’t leave it in the jar with the leash on or the legs will get tangled up and get pulled off. That’s just mean to leave a grasshopper without legs to hop on,” I instructed before following my bothers inside.

                “I love summer days,” I thought as I untied my hat and waited for the sink to wash my summer- stained hands.