Remembering Grandma

A detailed Summary of Remembering Grandma

We pulled into the gravel driveway a punctual half hour before our expected arrival. Great, I thought, an extra hour I would be waste at my grandparents'. Wasn't it good enough that I was spending the entire weekend here? Did we have to get there so soon? When you are thirteen, each minute at your grandparents' is like sitting through an oration of the entire set of the World Book Encyclopedia. Climbing out of the car, my sister and I apathetically walked across the driveway to the brick sidewalk, past the patch of towering sunflowers, and around to the back screen door.

As we opened the squeaky door, we passed from the bright sun of a spring day in Pennsylvania onto the back porch of Grandpa and Grandma's house. We saw Grandpa's pants hanging on the far wall, a bushel basket in one corner, and a pail with garden hand tools against another wall. We quietly stepped into the kitchen, as our mother and father trailed behind us with bags in their hands. Immediately I could smell the familiar aroma of pine scented Lysol. Grandma had stood by that product her entire life, and it appeared her senses were weakening, as the smell seemed stronger and stronger each time we visited.

Passing through the narrow kitchen, we step

It was not long before we were all sitting around the wooden table in the dining room, looking out through the large windows. Grandpa, a man with a figure like Santa Claus, came in from the garden where he was pruning some type of plant that I had never even known existed. Cranky and cantankerous, Grandpa's first words were, "I thought ya weren't gonna be here until dinner time." My dad informed him of a new route he discovered last night while examining the map. "It shaves a solid forty five minutes off your time on the interstate," Dad bellowed, while Mother and Grandma began to gossip about their friends.

When the clock read 3:30, Grandma made her routine pot of fresh coffee for everyone, adding an egg white to the boiling brew. She always told my sister and me that the egg was put in to make the coffee a drink for kids, but now I know that this was just one of Grandma's "stories." Even so, I had been drinking coffee at Grandma's house for as long as I could remember.

ped into the spacious dining room, dominated by a large, wooden table. "Anyone home? You here Mom?" my mother called out. At that time, Grandma appeared in the door of her bedroom across from where we stood.

Grandma was a small woman, not much taller than eleven-year-old Jess, and much shorter than my mother. She had the grayest hair of any old woman I knew, and she always wore it in one of those old-fashioned buns. Her hair was actually quite long. I knew because at night she woul

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Approximate Word count = 994
Approximate Pages = 4 (250 words per page double spaced)

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