grandparents
Becoming a grandparent makes getting older something to look forward to - all the fun of parenting, without the hassle.
Nigel
A boy, in the upstairs attic of his home, is looking out the window. “Isn’t life grand?” He rhetorically asks himself. There are raindrops tracing down the window. As he sits there, holding his head up with his hands below his chin, he hears his mother call to him, saying that lunch is ready. When he begins to walk downstairs, he smells the casserole his mother has been baking. His father is pouring hot water from the electric kettle into three mugs. “What have you been up to, Nigel?” He asks. “Absolutely nothing.” He sighs.
By Alexander Liljenberg 5 years ago in Families
Solomon
“Your grampa is so wise,” Gramma said, leaping back onto the conversational train as soon as the door cracked open. That was always what she said when Grampa Ted dared interrupt her. She would pause the flow of her talk and listen to him ramble while I fidgeted, impatient for him to finish.
By Gretchen Brumwell5 years ago in Families
Dare to believe
The sun crept in through the cracks in the blinds like every morning, waking Rebecca up at her usual time. She stretched out her arms and took a deep breath, sat on her bed, and gave thanks for this wonderful new day. She opened the blinds of her room but this day she felt a little different, she felt an inner peace that she had not felt for a long time. She got out of bed and without thinking, she went straight to the kitchen to prepare her coffee to start the day, there was silence in her apartment, everything felt so peaceful, so stable.
By Sayra Ferens5 years ago in Families
One in a Million
I sometimes don’t even believe it happened to me. A seemingly impossible, one in a million chance, a fantasy that you only ever hear about on the news or in an article online. It always sounds too good to be true. How could one person be so lucky, while so many others have to watch to the wayside? "It could never happen to me" I'd say to myself. "Life just doesn’t work out that way." Then I snap back into it. This is real. I now am one of those people you hear about, Im now one of the lucky ones, a "one in a million" where some crazy turn of events decided to change their whole life forever. And to think, it all started with a little black book.
By Caroline Kenney5 years ago in Families
Nancy Ann's Diary
“Those who don’t believe in magic,” I quoted to my grandmother, “will never find it.” She smiles and nods at Roald Dahl’s borrowed words she’s used to inspire me with since I was a little girl. I’m only 8 years old now, but I feel like a giant laying next to her shriveled body, in the sterile hospital bed. There’s a lump in my throat that feels like I swallowed an owl pellet: dry and boney. I want my last words to her to be powerful and meaningful, but my mind is blank under the pressure. So I squeeze her; her breath smells like chemicals. Gently, I slip away onto my feet. They weigh a fifty pounds each, but I drag them to the door. I look at her and just say what I feel. “I’m going to miss you Nana.” Voiceless, she mouths, “I’m going to miss you too.”
By Jessica Berkmen5 years ago in Families
The Backpack
I was sixteen years old on the day that I went to visit my dying grandfather in the hospital. The only way we could tell he was alive was a machine blurting out the rhythm of my grandpa’s heartbeat. Anxious, confused, and feeling a little sick, I huddled around a cramped hospital bed. I focused on an unopened lime jello cup on the bedside tray.
By Gregory Westcott 5 years ago in Families
A Little Gratitude
“The name Fyodor means God’s gift.” Fyodor could recall the conversation between him and his grandmother with vivid detail. He remembered how pale she was as she sat up on her bed, long and wrinkly fingers sat atop each other on the faded blue blanket, another smaller knitted blanket draped over her thin shoulders, her frizzy gray hair tucked underneath an old beanie, and her tired but still kind face.
By Kelly Tran5 years ago in Families
The Little Black Book
The phone rang. I knew it would not be good. My Dad was on the line. As I answered the phone, my heart sank as he said... "Son, your grandfather has passed away. I am so sorry, your Pap was a good man. I know how much you loved him. Visitation will be Wednesday, then Thursday night with just family and the funeral will be on Friday. I will see you then. I love you son". "I'll be there Dad", was all I could get out as my heart broke. I hung up the phone.
By Ric Bottorf 5 years ago in Families
Dear Diary
Dear Diary Driving through the familiar streets where I grew up. It's as if time has stopped, nothing has changed, the corner store is still running, Mr. Brown's gas station hasn't changed. Park where everybody would go, and hangout. This is a small town with one main road which is considered downtown. Here in Texas not everything is bigger, especially this town. I haven't been back to this town since I left for college many years ago, I built a life in New York City, graduated from NYU and never looked back. Graduating with a degree in journalism has always been my dream. Here I was again back to the town that I left so many years ago to say goodbye to the one person that I love the most, my grandmother.
By Elle Solano5 years ago in Families











