Angel Allen

19 November 2012

Ms. Harmon

English 10

My Grandparents Place

It was my grandma’s place where I remember most of my child hood. Being married to my granddad made their house even better. I will never forget the address numbers 139 and 1121.I first remember when they lived in apartments. Apartment number 139.I loved that little apartment in West Memphis.

My granddad acted like one of us. Down the street was a humongous family of pecan trees. We would get a Wal-Mart or Big Star plastic bag and fill it up with lots of pecans. Moesha, my little cousin and I would race to fill up our bags.

            “Look at my bag, Moesha.” I would say.

She would try to hide her bag so I couldn’t see how much she had. She was really competitive. Once we got back home, my grandma would ask us to grab her a bowl, some hot sauce and another plastic bag. That’s how she ate hers. Gross! We were always excited to help out.

            Now it’s the next Saturday. The front porch was filled with little slimy snails. Either Moesha or I would run and grab a handful of salt and share it with the other. We liked to run. We would sprinkle a little salt on each snail to see them suffer. That’s pretty weird, I know , but that’s what we liked to do.

            Moesha would excitedly say, “Look Angel, look!” I would turn around, look at her dying snails, and we would both laugh.

            Now I see a moving truck in the front yard. I thought to myself that it had to be in the wrong yard. I walked in the apartment and see rolls of tape, markers and boxes being put together. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought all of my fun Saturdays with Granddad were going to end as I saw my mom, grandma and tete pack boxes and move them to one side of the living room. 

But come to find out, the new house wasn’t so bad after all. House number 1121. It was much bigger than the apartment and it had lots more playing space. In the back room was the din, the place where I occupied most of my time. It was my granddads favorite room in the house too. Back there, he would let me grease his scalp, and put my bows in his hair. When I got done, he looked like a little girl. He didn’t mind looking like a fool. He did anything to please his grandkids.

My grandma’s place was the place to be. Even though my granddad has died since the move, I still remember all of our memories. There is and was no other place to be than my grandparents place.