Please be honest. Nothing Mean, just constructive criticism. What do I need to add?
I awoke from my marvelous slumber unwillingly. I shut my eyes as soon as I realized I was awake, hoping I would fall back asleep. But I knew, this was not the case. I rolled over onto my side and grabbed a small music box from my nightstand. The box was mahogany and fit in the palm of my hand. Small pink roses were hand painted on the lid. This box was my greatest treasure. I turned the box over gently and wound the small golden k**b. Then I let go and listened as I was serenaded into an unrealistic, natural high. I listened from my bed as my favorite song played. I knew if my feet touched the ground that I would have to face the world, and today, that was not something I felt like doing. The song moved me, even though it was only a music box producing small tinkling chimes. It was nothing compared to the way my Mother played it on her piano. I knew I would lose the battle with myself, so I surrendered and I hopped onto the carpet from my bed and began dancing and swaying to my favorite song. My Clair De Lune. I let the music carry me away, to a place where I was perfectly happy. I danced and spun around my room in my nightgown. I guess you could say I was in my Heaven. In my Heaven It was just me and My mother, dancing in a field of wildflowers. Twirling and laughing. It was the good old days. Before My Mom became sick. I was snapped out of my fantasy when my younger sister, Clarie came in. "Gosh Claire!" I gasped. "Don't scare me like that!" Claire had been crying. I had named Claire after Clair De Lune. I walked over to my 6 year old sister. Yes, there was an age difference between us. She was six, I was fourteen. I picked her up and began dancing with her, so maybe, just maybe, she would smile. I suceeded and my little Claire smiled. The music box finished the song and I placed Claire down.
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