Personal Essay

pr. 2

One day in August I was on the last trip to grandmaís house. Only three years old with the greatest ignorance a child could have. I treated it like any other day. They had told me that grandma was moving far away, but she wanted to see me before she left.

We were walking into the house, blank stares in the air. There was nothing but complete silence. Grandmaís walls were brown, and she had retro orange carpet. It led me all the way up to her room. I get to the top conquering my goal to see her.

Grandma was so beautiful on her king size bed fit for a queen. She was in a classy white night gown, making her red orange hair catch your eye even more. Looking at me with most entrancing eyes. Her skin pale and crack her lips filled with sores. Yet she lay there still beautiful. Her room smelled of hospital and Vaseline. I didnít care though, I felt so much passion for her I pushed the though aside.

I climbed into her bed for that kiss hello. We laughed for hours about nothing, because what does a child really understand? Before my parents decided it was time to depart, she taught me a game I would remember for the rest of my life. Grandma not having her strength taught me one more thing. She stayed at the top of the bed as I lay near the bottom feet to feet, both pushing towards one another. She called it footsie. We played until we could. Leaving her room with such enjoyment, I fell down the stairs never to see her beautiful self again.

I can never forget what it felt like to be with her that day. I will haunt me pleasantly for rest of my life. She has left me with more than I\'m bargained for. I\'m grateful for such a fresh memory.