Counting By Ones
A detailed Summary of Counting By Ones
The phone rang at around 5:00 PM my time. Normally, I'd be a bit irritated with the caller, as it was dinnertime, but a surge of excitement grasped me when I heard my grandson's voice on the other end. He hadn't called in weeks, maybe even a month, and I hadn't been able to call him. The mere sound of his voice evoked a consecrated, overwhelming pleasure.
"Hi Grandma! I miss you!" I heard him squeal through the earpiece. I cherished these years, for I knew that within a few more he would be plagued with puberty, and I with Alzheimer's, or a similar mentally incapacitating disease, and that our special relationship wouldn't be able to endure these extreme conditions. He was grasping for the reigns of "maturity" as I was retreating in the face of menopause, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before our relationship was reduced to family reunions and Christmas dinners. It was only a matter of time...yet I felt, I wished, it could last forever.
"Hi Brandon! How are you?" I shouted back in an equally childish tone. I missed him so. I longed for him with all my heart. He was the only person that mattered in my life - everything else had faded into a gray-dull background of memories. Three years ago, on December 3rd, 1999, m

y husband, daughter, and son-in-law were killed on their way to visit me in the hospital. I had contracted PHDI, a rare strain of pneumonia, and was taken to Los Angeles for treatment, about 150 miles north of my home in San Diego. Assuming that I'd be home later in the day, I chose to keep my visit a secret, even from my husband. Unfortunately, I severely underestimated the length of treatment. By the time I was informed that I would be held inpatient for as long as a week, I immediately called home and left a message. I still remember my exact words:
When I awoke some time later, maybe hours, maybe even a day, I was informed that the three people who mattered most in my life had died in a plane accident on their way to see me in the hospital. Apparently, my husband, in a state of alarm, had called my daughter and son-in-law and had them buy tickets to Los Angeles. They could only get three tickets, which meant they had to leave Brandon, who was barely two years old at the time, at home with a babysitter. The plane crashed over Orange County due to "mechanical failures." There were no survivors. My life ended that day. I went home numb, and have been so ever since. The only thi
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Approximate Word count = 801
Approximate Pages = 3 (250 words per page double spaced)
Category: English
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