Checkpoint

Let's put everything together in a checkpoint piece. Here's the original snippet:

Dad has the ute going outside. I am behind Mum. Her dress has got flowers all on it, none of them much to look at. Her bum moves around when she laughs. Dad always says she has a bum like an angry mob which means nothing to me but a lot to him, I reckon. I can hear the rooster crorking out the back. He's a mean rooster—goes for your pills when you collect the eggs.

"Seeyaz." That's Dad going. He revs the ute up. He's in a hurry, going to town for Mr Cherry.

"Wave him off, Ort," Mum says to me. She always reckons you should show people you love them when they go away because you might never see them again. They might die. The world might end. But Dad's only going to town for an hour. It's business for Mr Cherry. And there he goes, out the drive and onto the road.

That Eye, the Sky(1986)

Here are the examples we've been building:

Imani is wheeling her bike towards the door. I am at the desk next to Emmanuel. His shirt is covered in palm leaves, like a tourist. His glasses reflect the computer monitor while he watches YouTube. Imani says the glasses make him look like a university professor which delights him because he never finished high school, as far as I know. The phone is bringling on the desk. It’s a customer I do not like—he’s always got something too heavy or awkward to carry safely.

“Sawa.” That’s Imani kicking the door open. She backs out holding the bike on one wheel. She’s in a good mood, going to the Hilton.

“Bring back profiteroles, if you can get them,” Emmanuel calls to her. He knows the hotel staff throw a lot of good food in the bins outside the kitchen. Emmanuel isn’t too proud to eat pastries from the garbage. Not Hilton pastries. And not if Imani’s the one doing the digging. But she’ll have time. It’s an easy delivery. An American has forgotten their passport. Pick it up in City Square and drop it off at Makadara Yards. Imani tips her chin back at us as the door swings shut, kwaheri, then she’s on her bike and away.

Grandma’s pony is waiting with the little buggy in the sunshine. I am wrapped in Mama’s arms. Her apron smells of baked cinnamon scrolls and feels like warmth and home. Her hands dust my dress with flour. Grandma calls her the Pied Piper of pastries because nobody can resist them, they’re utterly irresistible, enchanting, overwhelming, as you know. I can hear the woodsman sloshing in the bathtub past the kitchen. He’s a giant man with calloused hands—but so gentle and sweet to my mama.

“Cheerio!” That’s Grandma saying goodbye. She climbs into the buggy. She has a long journey, through the woods to the village on the other side.

“Are you sure you won’t stay?” says Mama. She doesn’t think Grandma will complete the journey before nightfall. Grandma has been here all afternoon. Now the sun is sinking. The woods are not safe in the dark. But Grandma insists on sleeping in her own bed. She’s a sweet but stubborn old lady. So she sets off, down the snowy path and into the darkening woods.

And below is your version, joined together. You might need to delete some excess paragraph breaks.

Is there anything you want to edit? This is your last chance to make improvements before we conclude the lesson!

Do you:

use subjective first person commentary to communicate beliefs and opinions?
use flavourful dialogue?
play with forms of present tense to create a floaty, suspended feeling?

Delete excess paragraph breaks and polish your scene.

First person in That Eye, the Sky 1: Saying goodbye