The Kiln Opening

We were driving down the road and I was staring out the window. I kept looking for the familiar sign of the Old Mill Crank up. I didn't see it but I did realize the place when I saw a covered bridge. The clock read 5:30 and it would be opening at 6:00 we were thirty minutes early.1

I sighed as my dad started to get out of the car. "Where are you going?" I asked in a annoyed tone. "To go and wait for them to open the kiln," he replied. I sighed and said, "That is in thirty minutes and I don't mind being five or six minutes early but I don't like this."2

"Well I guess we can wait in the car for a couple of minutes," he said. I rolled my eyes and nodded as I began to write. Fifteen minutes later he said, "Come on. I can leave you in the car or you can come." I just sat there writing when he said, " Allright no more choice you've got to come with me." 3

I climbed out of the car with my pen and composition notebook in my hands. We walked up to the little wooden house where everyone was. I was writing as I walked ignoring everything else. We walked into the house and I patted down some rocks and sat down. "Doing a report on this are you?" one of them said.4

I looked up and said, "No I am writing about the dogs we had and how I felt when we got rid of them." "Yeah, she just takes it all in and writes about it later," my dad said to them. They nodded smiling and asked if he wanted any coffee. He took some and I kept on writing.5

It was then time to open it. I took a seat after a while and watched. The pottery was beautiful and lots of different colors. I loved it. My dad recorded the entire thing and I tried not to talk. So I wrote about what I saw. Probably just a paragraph of it. I remember it well. 6

We looked over the pottery that was big and small and colorful too. My dad talked a while longer and I listened and wrote about how my dad had a split personality. I walked around some in circles. One person said that I would make a great author one day and I thanked her for the compliment then said that I wanted to be an artist. She said that I could illustrate for my books myself. I laughed and waited for my dad as he slowly walked out.