As the small plane touched down, I could not tear myselffrom the window or stop taking in the wild beauty of what has since become myisland getaway.

I descended the plane's narrow steps into dazzlingsunshine. Gripping my carryon with one hand and shielding my eyes with the other,I searched for my best friend, with whom I would spend the summer on small,windswept Nantucket, an island off the coast of Massachusetts. Hair blowing, Ifollowed the other passengers to the terminal. I soon found myself wrapped in myfriend's warm embrace, about to have the summer of my life.

Nantucket isthe place I look forward to all year, and is often what motivates me to getthrough the piles of schoolwork, arduous sports practices, snowy winters, trafficand stress that are part of everyday life.

When I am on Nantucket with mybest friend, we wake up early because we don't want to waste a single minute on"our" island. Sunlight streams through the windows, warming our bedsand faces. Rubbing sleep from our eyes, we throw on clothes and rush into theearly morning air perfumed with the heady scent of wildflowers. The landscape isawash in color; the purples and blues of hydrangeas, the luminous azure of thesky, the dewy grass. We walk to the market, saying hello to artists who set theireasels in the streets and attempt to capture the beauty surrounding them. At themarket we purchase blueberry muffins, still warm from the oven, and walk home,the sun beating on our shoulders as we savor the muffins with their sugar crusts.

At night, we run down the narrow bike path to the beach, bare feetslapping the pavement, stopping only long enough to suck the honeysuckle blossomsalong the road. When we reach the beach, we wiggle our toes deep into the cool,damp sand and lie on our backs, not caring that it will be nearly impossible toget the sand out of our hair. Staring up at the brilliant pinpoints of light thatfill the velvet sky, I am reminded again of why I love Nantucket.

Theisland heals the senses, calms the soul. It is the homey, New England smell ofseafood, the taste of salt on your lips, the sweetness of honeysuckle, the mutedgrays, browns and blues of the nighttime landscape, the bright bursts ofbrilliant color that abound in daytime, the sound of your own heart beating on adeserted beach, the sound of the waves steadily washing on the shore, the feelingof frigid water swirling around bare legs and, most of all, the feeling of trulycoming home.






Faith by Olga T., Franklin, MA

Danger had a Gray Face by Timothy S., Lancaster, PA

Tennessee by Laura R., Destrehan, LA

Canyon de Chelly by Amanda T., Scituate, MA

Trip to India by Mansi P., Wilmington, DE



   

By Erica P., Ocean Park, ME












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