creative writing

Today was the first day of summer session II. I am taking a class called Basic Reporting and one called Introduction to Creative Writing. The latter class meets Monday through Thursday for 110 minutes (as opposed to the former, which meets twice a week for a whopping and unbearable 3 hours and 40 minutes per class). In class we had a short, 10 minute free write in which we were to describe a memory or an image of ourselves that was autobiographical in whole and really described us. This is what I wrote, and I will hopefully continue to share my writing in that class over the next five weeks.

"Quitting"
I had two blankets growing up, "B-1" and "B-2." I would hold one up to my nose and smell it as I sucked my thumb. I loved smells, and I still do, so it wasn't the thumb sucking that I was particurally attached to, but I'd done it practically all my life. One day, when I was five, or maybe eight, I went to the dentist. He told me my thumb sucking would set my teeth permenantly out of line if I didn't stop. He gave me until my next visit to quit. That was the last day I ever sucked my thumb.