Mrs. Hinkle-Personal Narrative

Mrs. Hinkle was the sweetest woman on the block. She took the effort to visit every house down the street to wish them happy holiday and bring the children brownies and candy. She was also my babysitter when my parents were out. No matter how busy she was, there was never a time that she couldn’t make it. With an age similar to my own grandmother’s, she still had a flair in her that kept everyone around her smiling.
Her husband, on the other hand, was seen by my brothers and I as a grumpy, mean old man. Every time we visited their house, he would be in the same La-Z-Boy chair leaned all the way back watching the Texas Rangers baseball team, and every time we walked in front of the television, words like “Get out of the way, you damn kids” would shoot at us. We learned to ignore him and not take any interest in his hobbies. …show more content…
I was almost seven years old.
“Ask her if she needs anything and give her a big hug”, my mother said as I slid out out of the car seat.
When we approached her front door, we rang the doorbell. Mrs. Hinkle opened the door.
“Well, hello my darlings” she sang with a surprising grin on her face.
“Hi Mrs. Hinkle. We’re sorry about Mr. Hinkle” we all said without any sympathy. “My mom said that if you need anything, we’re here”, my eldest brother, Cole, said as if he's been practicing been practicing his lines. He was ten then, and my middle brother, Aden, was eight.
“Oh, thank you children. Won’t you come inside? I’ll whip up brownies and we can watch TV.” My brothers and I were curious to why she was so happy. I thought maybe she had not cared for her husband.
“How did Mr. Hinkle die?”, I spitted