Personal Narrative: A Place In Bristow
My special place is the country in Bristow, Oklahoma. When I am in the country I hear the goats “baa-ing”, the stomping of their feet hitting the grass, the pigs snorting, rolling around in the mud, and the dog barking. I see my two children running around messing with the dog and running away from the daddy goat. My dad and grandpa are drinking beer and messing with a car or staring at each other. The baby goats are following their mother around everywhere. There is nothing but green grass and a bunch of energy from the animals. I smell goat poop, the pig’s nasty, natural smell they have and the fresh, beautiful, dirt road air all at the same time. I see green grass, a bunch of big, green trees, and pretty flowers bloomed. I walk behind the