Question
I need some constructive criticism, different ways of saying this would help to. please be brutal if you need to be.! Im afraid im telling the whole story of the family to soon. The paragraphs before it are the beggining, they just talk about the main character and her dad driving off the highway and then .. My parents had just signed the divorce papers a week earlier. All of the family’s neighbours and friends thought the divorce was out of the blue, but my brother and I was surprised it didn’t happen earlier. Our parents let us choose who we live with, and my brother, Jason chose Mom and I decided to live with Dad so he wouldn’t be lonely. I’m older than my brother, by a minute so I chose to take the responsibility of the older sibling and go with Dad. He’s usually never home, he works a lot and he’s usually gone for a week or two at a time. Jason needs mom, he’s always getting into trouble and Mom always bails him out. Jason and I aren’t like normal brothers and sisters, were actually kind of friends. When I realized my Dad was done with conversation I threw my ear phones back in and began to doodle. I flipped the page in my notebook and tried to draw something new, and less depressing, but nothing came to mind. About an hour passed and I noticed the car was starting to slow down. I looked out my car window and noticed it stopped raining and there were children running up and down the side walk jumping into puddles. I looked to the houses and noticed that they all looked familiar. The little green house on the corner of the street looked like I’d seen it before, and even the stop sign made me feel like a was having déjà vu. Then I knew what was going on when we pulled up into the drive way. “Were home.” My dad said and I could feel him looking at me but I was too shocked to reply. We were home. When my parents split up my Mom kept the house and my dad didn’t want to stay in New York any longer. He said it was too loud and polluted. We were at our old house, we lived here until I was about 11 or 12, then moved to New York so my Mom could start her “Life’s Dream” as she called it. I cried for months after that. We moved about 6 years ago, and I had almost forgotten about this place. This was my home. The white sidings, the black window shutters, the long drive way, the huge dark wooden doors. Before Rick could say anything else I pulled the keys out of the ignition and ran to the house. My feet splashed in the puddles while I ran up the walk way. I made it to the door. I shoved the key into the lock and turned it and the wind pushed the door wide open. It was just how it used to be. The kitchen on my left, living room on my right, dining room down the hall on the left just past the kitchen, and the huge staircase splitting into two directions. All the furniture was covered by white sheets, and the house was a little dusty. I stepped into the house and leaned against the stair case railing. “It needs a little work but it will be back to how it used to be in no time at all Lexi bear.” Rick was in the house holding two bags, one which was mine. He startled me, and I jumped off the banister and noticed a line of dust along my pant leg, so I patted at my leg to brush it off. My dad loved this place when we lived here, even though he was rarely ever here and usually at work. I remember his old office that he would stay up all night in, working on projects. Mom hated that. rick is the fathers name... I tell the readers the fathers name in the paragraphs before these. :P