Descriptive Essay

I looked down at the beautiful, blue, ceramic bowl that held the gross, reeking, brown medicine in front of me. I sat with a frown on my face, regretting the honesty that slipped through my mouth that morning. I was eight years old – a student at a local primary school who dreaded, every single morning at six o’clock, to go back to the dull place. School was fun, but the fun was often suppressed by the stacks upon stacks of homework given to us. On that Monday morning, I woke up sweating. I had brought my hand to my forehead and immediately sat up with joy at the burning sensation in my head – I had a fever.

A fever wasn’t a problem for me because. Rather, it was a free pass to skip school. Without a second thought, I revealed the news to my mom. Right when I opened my mouth, I realised the mistake that I had so carelessly made. You see, a fever came not only with a stay-at-home ticket but also a trip to the Chinese medicine doctor – something that had completely slipped my mind when I yelled out “I have a fever!”

I sat in the living room, filled with disgust as I stared at my reflection in the steaming bowl of death. In the small blue bowl, the murky dirt-water reflected an ocean so vast and endless. The fever was easily replaced by the foul smell of the content of the bowl that burned my nose. I flinched at the thought of the medicine on my tongue. The stench, like an onion, almost made me cry. As I sat and stared, I hoped that the content of the bowl would drink itself away. My mom walked out of the kitchen with an identical bowl in her hand. She held it out so that I could see that the same medicine was in her bowl, then she brought the bowl to her lips, tilted the bowl back, and chugged everything. She always made it look so easy – it wasn’t. As the last drop disappeared, she looked at me and waited for me to do the same. I sighed in defeat and picked up my bowl. 

The biscuits that the doctor had so kindly gifted me with was laid out on the table.  I took the first sip and immediately reached for the sweet, comforting biscuit. Each sip of the medicine was followed by a small crumb of the biscuit. The medicine flowed like an endless spring. My sensitive taste buds became wide awake after coming into contact with the bitter taste. I chose to focus on the lingering taste of the biscuit as the medicine slid down my throat like a snail, leaving a trail of resentment, disgust, and regret. The brown liquid seeped into my taste buds, slowly trickled down my esophagus, and landed in my stomach. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on something that wasn’t the bitterness that stained the inside of my mouth. As much as I wanted the foul taste to disappear, it remained. The sweetness of the biscuit faded, the heat of the fever faded, the living room faded. But the pungency of the medicine stayed. 

Forever went by and I tilted my head back as the final drop entered my mouth. The empty, blue, and not-so-beautiful bowl that no longer held the brown medicine was placed back in its original spot. I sat in the living room as a tear threatened to fall from my eyes. My regret and disgust slowly melted away. Maybe, just maybe, the stay-at-home ticket was worth all the pain after all.

Reflection:

This piece was relatively easy to complete because my memory of the experience is still very vivid. As I was writing this, I focused on turning everything that I felt into words. In a way, I thought this topic was perfect for the assignment because it requires a lot of detailed descriptions to allow the reader to gain insight on the experience (I wanted the reader to get a grasp or feel for what taking Chinese medicine is like). I found it challenging at times to communicate and express certain feelings or ideas. For example, I struggled to describe what it felt like to swallow the medicine in a way that would clearly reflect the bitterness and dislike. After looking through my peer reviews, I realised that I used several words and phrases repetitively, which made the essay sound redundant. Overall, I think this was the next step in bettering my ability to express my ideas clearly.

Writing Process

1. 

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5. 

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