Personal Narrative: A Day At Grandma

I meander my way past the screechy screen door, letting it creak back into position. Immediately, I am assaulted by the smell of Cheerios, cashews, coffee grinds, and cookies from the Dollar Bin at Price Chopper. Thanks to the ever-present orchids sprouting throughout the house, the discounted snacks’ scent soon fades into oblivion. The gurgle of the Poland Springs bubbler echos in the background as I fumble for the hanging light pull. As I let it ricochet towards the ceiling, I jump at the sound of popcorn exploding on the stovetop, soon to be strung around the ten foot Christmas tree. After a quick sweep of the former closet stuffed to the brim with non perishables, my eyes land on the double bagged flour, though the extra material does nothing to keep the powder in the bag; the entire shelf is coated with a mini snowstorm. Wiping my whitened hands on my favorite plaid pajama bottoms, the mandated uniform for my time at Grandma’s, I retreat from the pantry. …show more content…
One look from Grandma replaces any thoughts of sneaking a peak, and I jump into the swing, which sways with the sudden movement. I then become the director of tree decoration, demanding more colored lights in certain areas and less tinsel in others. Soon enough, my opinion loses its importance and the tree work marches on without my input. The excitement of the day soon begins to take its toll and my eyelids flutter shut, thoughts of tomorrow’s extravagance painted in the