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Rated: ASR · Non-fiction · Personal · #1851718
While looking through my old files, I found this English Assignment about my Grandmother.
My grandmother Lucy was an inspiration in my life. She was a person that you could talk to about problems that you had and she would help you out with them. She had 2 daughters, my mother and my aunt, who loved her very much. She met my grandfather when she was about 18, well, sometime after she left school. (One of the things that I would joke about with her and her companion, Bud, was trying to get them to go and finish high school and for them to get their diplomas.) We had some good laughs about that. She would say things to the effect of “Oh I don’t know. I might end up teaching them a thing or 2.” I loved her very much. She always had these big clear, hard, plastic containers that I would steal cookies or candies out of. She would say, “Only four cookies Andrew.” while I took six or more of them. Then I would just smile at her and give her some kisses, followed by a few “z-burps”. (You know that sound that some people make when they blow air into the cup of their hands when their either bored or being rude to the teachers when they are teaching a long lesson, if you know what I mean.) She would laugh whenever I did that. You could almost always make her laugh. She loved to talk to anyone who wanted to talk to her.

She loved going to garage and yard sales. She could find the clear diamond in the pile of clear glass as it were. She would always find the beauty in any situation and in anything she had. You may think that she should throw out some of the things she got, but then she would tell you about the item. Then you would end up saying things like “How much money are you willing to accept for this item?” However, she would end up saying, “It’s not for sale.”

She almost always had a smile on her face. I remember when I was younger and sleeping over at her place, she hadn’t put in her teeth in the next morning; she just smiled and caused me to laugh. She was always in a good mood; I can’t remember a time she was otherwise. I always had fun with her. Even when there was nothing going on we would have fun. We would play card games like War, Old Maid, and Slap Jack and so on.

She had many friends around town. We would go to the Cherry Creek Sub Shop almost every Friday, or some other place in Cherry Creek, were she and Bud would order fish and fries, while I got Chicken Wings and fries. She would talk with many of the other patrons who were nearby. If you’d met her once, you would have known what she was like. You would have loved her. You could never forget her at some level. You could have met her five years previously and then had met up with her again, you would remember everything of that day. Everything, from the location, to the meal you ate with her, would come back in a flash. She always laughed at the jokes you told her. You couldn’t stay angry, for too long, at her because she would have you laughing within minutes. You could have been someone had a grudge on her from school, who hated her. She would have caused you to stop think and start laughing because of what she had told you. She was a strong woman and I’ll never forget her, ever. I doubt that anyone who had even met her would be able to forget her at all. I know that I won’t be able to. I miss her more than I could ever admit, even to myself. I still love her and still call her place hers. It feels as if she could just open that door up and say “Hello there.” This caused Doug (my mother's boyfriend) to say “We already have one of you here!” I miss her. I can’t, and won’t forget her ever.


I wrote this in December of '07 for a 12th grade English assignment. I can't recall what it was for, but I think it might of been to write about someone who inspired me. I rediscovered it when I was searching through the files on my computer. In case you're wondering, I live east of Jamestown NY, near several of the small towns/villages that are mainly made up of families and small businesses- Cherry Creek is one of those places.
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