This is a piece I wrote about visiting my grandfather when I was a freshman in High School for our unit on memoirs.
I grabbed my tiny maroon backpack and hopped into the car, ready for the adventure ahead. I had gone on this journey many times before, and I knew I had a lengthy drive ahead, but I also knew that it would all be worth it when we got there. My tiny hands grasped my Elmo DVD and I put it into my DVD player. My headphones engulfed my tiny head as I watched my favorite show over, and over, and over again. Lost in my excitement, I glanced out the window, and as we got closer I began to see the familiar twisting trees, leafy bushes, and woodland all around.
I hopped up to the front door excitement running through me. My dad slowly pushed the door open juggling our bags in his hands, I bolted inside and see my grandpa in his usual big comfy navy blue leather chair. He gave me a big bear hug and a big sloppy kiss on the top of my head. I ran around and collected the few toys in the house and took them to the room that I would call home for that weekend. The door creaked open, and my dad waddled in as he slumped my suitcase on to the ground. He flashed me a big smile as he took his and my moms’ suitcase to his childhood room.
I laid on my back staring at the intricate design carved on the antique bed that I was on. I traced the bushels of flowers and leaves connected by veins of all different sizes with my tiny baby sized fingers that fit perfectly into the deep grooves. I traced both sides of the symmetrical pattern wishing I had a bed like this of my own, at my house. I sat up and my eyes scanned the room. I hopped out of the bed and crawled over to the deep cream colored window sill. I stared at the many pictures of my family from our various vacations.
Wrapped in fond memories I ran out of my room and burst into the kitchen. I ransacked the drawer next to the sink and grabbed my favorite deck of cards with birds on the front.
I dashed over to my grandpa's chair and proposed a game to him, “Let's play cards!”
His eyes lit up at the idea.
“Ok, I’ll meet you over at the kitchen table” he answers.
“YAY!” I squealed and ran over to the kitchen table.
“What do you wanna play?” I yelled into the living room as I got the cards out their plastic case.
“Whatever you want,” my grandpa announced as he slowly rose up from his well-worn chair.
I decide on Go Fish, and I put 2 piles of 7 cards on the table with the remaining cards in the middle. He shuffled over to the table and plopped down into the wooden chair. He picked up his cards and stared at them; he then put down the only pair he had.
“Nope, go fish,” he responded.
I then used my great memory, sneaky tactics, and of course my grandpa cheating for me a little bit, to win my favorite game.
This went on for about 25 minutes and finally, our first game came to an end, and I won, like I always do. With every winning game, he slowly and carefully built up my house of cards. By the time we were done playing our games, my mom had finished cooking dinner. Together, we collected all of our cards, shoved them back into their clear plastic box, and sat down to my favorite meal of spaghetti and meatballs.
After a long weekend of playing cards, drinking lots of juice, playing with the “Bop-it”, and watching my grandpas green toned T.V broadcast golf for endless hours, it was time to go home. I hopped into the back of our jet black minivan, and we embarked on our adventure home. I watched my favorite Care Bear movie and stared out the window; my house of cards as high as ever.
Each visit to our house of cards was the same. But as the both of us grew older it was harder and harder for him to be able to build up my house of cards.
Now, I sit on that same antique bed, in the guest bedroom of my house. I used each of my hands to trace the symmetrical pattern, around, and around, and around, my fingers no longer fitting perfectly into the deep grooves, as my house of cards came crashing down.
