Dessert Island

By Julia Kemp

Growing up as a book-loving child, I must humbly admit that my aptitude for spelling came quite easily. “Nauseous,” “acknowledge,” “entrepreneur”—commonly misspelled words never seemed to phase me. However, I discovered my academic achilles heel while learning about deserts and desserts. I simply could not grasp the colossal difference one small “s” could make in a word. Time after time, I would write about the Sahara Dessert or my favorite desert recipes, never seeming to grasp the difference between the two words. 

If, ever, I do find myself on a desert island, I don’t think I have any hope of finding a way to get help. Say I was trapped on a desert island, and had one chance to write home. I picture myself stumbling upon a dust-covered piece of parchment and a time-worn quill, able to write an emergency letter and flee to safety. “HELP,” I would write, panic-stricken, “I’m stuck on a dessert island!” Starving and alone, I would place my letter in a small glass bottle, and pray that my escape mission would be a success. However, I would probably receive a return letter from all my friends and family, congratulating me for finding such a wonderful island filled with tasty treats, and asking me to take leftovers home once I’m finished. 

After pining over my simple mistake and languishing in my own stupidity, I would accept my fate, and live the remainder of my life on my little dessert island.