grandparents
Becoming a grandparent makes getting older something to look forward to - all the fun of parenting, without the hassle.
The Little Black Notebook
Sarah walked into the old house and looked around. Dust covered everything, floral wallpaper peeling off the walls, and birds had come in through a broken window to make nests in the sconces. She wrinkled her nose at the musty smell and heaved a sigh, wondering what she was going to do with this mess of a house. The house had belonged to her grandparents and she had vague memories of visiting as a child, but had not been there in over thirty years. Nobody had lived here in decades and it was obvious by the appearance. The house had good bones but needed a lot of work to make it livable. She wandered from room to room, looking at old photos of people she did not know and the variety of knick knacks on the shelves. The Victorian style furniture had been covered in protective plastic, so it had been saved from the years of neglect.
By Terresa L Nelsen5 years ago in Families
When Prince Got Me Kicked Out of my Great Grandmother's House.
I grew up in Texas as an only child to a single mother. Once school was out for summer, my mom couldn't afford to pay for childcare, so I typically spent my summers in Mississippi staying with family, namely floating between my grandmother's place and my great grandparents' house. One particular summer while staying with my great grandparents, my young-crazy-cool aunt rented a house down the street from them and I made every attempt to spend time with her. The problem was, her and my great grandmother didn't always get along.
By Erica Roberts 5 years ago in Families
The Little Black Book Challenge
Elizabeth sat across the mahogany desk from a stifled man who was seemingly uptight. He was an older man with crystal blue eyes, that although they were tarnished by multiple folds of sagging skin and unsightly moles, remained beautiful in a haunting way. All of his personality and social skills must have been stuffed into his ill-fitting off black suit, like a man trying on his wedding day tuxedo he'd retired several years prior. His hands, gnarled with arthritis, held onto a black leather book steadfastly; the book itself showing signs of great age. Aging in the way of cracks in binding and cover, crispy pages, and dog-eared pages whose edges would never be smooth again. Golden letters are carved into the face of the text and one side, "The Rules of The Cast." The clock ticked away the minutes as both Elizabeth and Mr. Carmichael, as he had introduced himself, exchanged awkward periods of exaggerated throat clearing and heavy sighs.
By Aaliyah Hanna5 years ago in Families
A history, lost
Having witnessed many changes in my lifetime, I find that I do not enjoy them. Since change is usually—to me—something negative, I find it hard to embrace. My mother calls me stubborn, but I call it loyalty. Nothing, however, could have prepared me for what I consider the biggest adjustment of my life.
By Shawna Blake5 years ago in Families
The Teddy Bear Lady
To live generously one does not need to do grandiose deeds. Small gestures can have impact. Big or small one must only care to add value to the lives of others and seek opportunity to make the world a better place. Sweet gestures spread smiles, and smiles are carried miles beyond the moment! My Family and the people of Peoria Illinois know this to be true, because of one special lady. While many recall her name, others know her simply as The Teddy Bear Lady. I however am blessed to have known her as Nana and Grandma. Hers was truly a legacy of love. Throughout her life she was accomplished in many regards and to know her was to love her. The reach of her kindness can’t be fully comprehended, as many on the receiving end were strangers she approached with a smile.
By Elizabeth Calhoun5 years ago in Families
*Notebook
The day he died, my grandfather gave me a small black notebook. The cover was worn and corners were tattered, but he'd been carrying it for as long as I could remember, so I was a surprised when he pressed it into my hands. Perhaps if I'd known he was about to die it would have meant more to me, but at the time it just seemed strange.
By Karissa Davison5 years ago in Families
Grandpa Jake’s Secret Stash
Grandpa Jake was a man of few words. The ones you sometimes heard being things like, “ turnipheads” , when referring to government officials, “ummm” when eating a hot apple pie ala mode or “crymenintly!”, a made up oath we heard when a finger was smashed, a pig got loose, or a piece of machinery he was fixing gave him trouble. This could also be uttered in excitement or awe, like when I won the spelling bee! Crymenintly, baby girl! You are the Queen speller!”
By Nancy German5 years ago in Families
The Ghost Note
"Grandma, we nearly have everything unpacked. Where would you like this notebook to go?" A young woman asks, holding up a small leatherback booklet. It was maybe half a foot in length, with a black fabric tie around it. An elderly woman slowly moves into view. "Ah, my old friend. I had feared I lost you in the move." The older woman takes it gingerly from the hands of her granddaughter, slightly caressing the spine of the little black book. The young woman shakes her head with a sigh. She then proceeds to break down the empty box before her. "You act like that thing is alive, grandma." She turns to face her grandmother and the older lady chuckles. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Call me senile you would." A smile cracks on the old woman's features, but it turns sad when she looks at the book once more. "It has been with me and helped me many times, Cassidy."
By Mariam Michalak5 years ago in Families
Grandmothers And Coffee Are Heaven Sent Blessings.
Recently it was brought to my attention how absolutely fucking PRECIOUS grandmothers and coffee are. Conveniently enough I was in a coffee shop sitting with a delicious brew, while my daughter munched down her sushi and lemonade next to me, when this epiphany came to me.
By Hannah Pitchers5 years ago in Families
Grandma's House
She stepped into the house for the first time since her grandmother had passed. She breathed in the familiar scent: mothballs with a hint of those peppermint LifeSavers her grandmother couldn’t be caught without. She had been in this house countless times over the years, but she realized she always took the same path: through the side door, across the kitchen, and into the living room where she sat on the couch and read the Ten Commandments out loud, while her grandmother sat nodding along in her chair. This house, built in the late 1800s, was full of relics she had never stopped to appreciate. Now, taking stock of the things around her, she was sure her grandmother would have had captivating stories to tell about why she had so many pig figurines, or who the people were in the painting done by her grandfather that hung in the dining room. She walked around room to room, surveying each one’s contents, and figuring out where to start clearing out first. She paused at the door to the basement, giving it a hard tug—the wood often swelled in the humidity and was difficult to open. Making her way down the steps, she remembered the story her dad used to tell her about the Boogey Man who lived in the crawl space down there. She was older now, and she knew there was no Boogey Man, which was why she laughed to herself when she felt a nostalgic twinge of fear as she passed the crawlspace door. She waved her arm in the air, searching for the string that would illuminate the one dim bulb that hung in the center of the room. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, but she also didn’t like being in the 200-year-old basement of her dead grandmother without any light. Finally, her fingers closed around the frayed end. She let out a shriek as the dusty bulb flickered on and shed light on a skeleton propped up on the old workbench next to her. She bent over with her hands on her knees and let her heavy breathing morph into a laugh as she recalled the haunted house they had set up down there for the neighborhood the previous year. She made a mental note to make sure she got rid of it—the realtor probably wouldn’t find it as funny.
By Chris Walden 5 years ago in Families
Memories In The Room
Stepping from her car, into the early morning, Ronnie took a deep breath as if she could inhale courage from the rising haze. How long has it been since she saw this house? Since she was in this gravel driveway that dispassionately delivered skinned knees on a regular basis? A memory came to her, something Mammah would say when she could tell Ronnie was waffling on a decision or task. There she was- standing in the kitchen at the counter between the stove and sink, somehow already knowing that Ronnie was there.
By M. Bornhoffer5 years ago in Families
