Our Memory

By Ashley Picool
May 13, 2009

 

My story is about a girl and her relationship with her grandma.

Great! Just great! Another C to add to my awful report card. “Now young lady, what did I tell you about bad grades?” granny would say every year at this time when my grades would come and my grades would be low. I held the paper in my hands and thought about where granny was now. The soft burgundy walls absorbed every bit of sound. The house seemed darker than it normally was and it made me question as to whether I should make a sound or retain the silence. I decided to not disturb my quiet surroundings and began searching for the person who would soon punish me. I went to her bedroom, but the door was closed.

Granny was one not too well with surprises so instead I put my ear to the cold door. Silence. Again I tried and nothing. The churning in my stomach told me something was wrong. For seven years, granny had always been home when I got home from school. Old age for her was a burden since she couldn’t pick me up at school. I rode the bus to school and back every day since third grade. Granny would stand with her crane at the door and watch as my blond hair swished back and forth up the stairs of the bus. Over the years though, I had convinced her that she didn’t have to watch me. She still wanted too, but when she couldn’t anymore, she gave in and just watched me from the window. And always, when I would come home, I would see granny’s big smile with tons of food on the big oak table waiting just for me. This was our daily routine, so when granny wasn’t there and the house was absolutely quiet, I began biting my nails.

Source: Buzzle.Com