Catcher

So my mom had to read a book, The Catcher in the Rye, for her English class and then talk about how realistic a character the main guy was. It was written a long time ago, so when you aren't alive then, all you have to go on is what other people say. She thought he was pretty realistic.

Me? I don't know what I think. I'm just working out what I think about myself. He wears a goofy hat. I don't think I ever would, not even when people aren't looking. He swears a lot. I try not to swear at all: Mom hates it and my best friend Honey hates it even more. He's had someone he likes a lot die on him. Now that's something I know a little bit about.

The biggest difference between us has to be that he thinks everyone is bad, and I think, deep down, that everyone is good, and I'm just so shocked when they prove they aren't. But I get over it.

I've been making a list lately of all the things I like, because when Holden (that's the character's name) was asked by his sister to list all the things he liked, he had a hard time coming up with anything. I want to be able to spit out about forty things in a row if anyone ever asks me.

So here's a list:

Green, strawberries, fresh-cut grass, the way sand looks when it's falling through your fingers, yellow paint, hamburgers, Chuck Taylor's, jeans, PB&J sandwiches, history, purple, a baby's laugh, skipping, fireflies, the smell of old books, storms with lightning and thunder, the feel of window glass on a cold winter day, popcorn, the moon.

That makes nineteen so far, I need to think of more later. Going over to Honey's house now, we are going to help her mom bake some cookies for her little brother's class field trip to the city. I hope we get to taste the batter. I like that too.

Peace,

Margaret