Personal Narrative: Atwood, Indiana

626 Words 3 Pages
Atwood, Indiana I would not call this my favorite place, but since I do not actually have a favorite place, this is my only option. My great-grandma died on October third of 2012 (I remember death dates, and yes, I know that it is weird), but that day was oddly one of my favorites. Her name was Norma Jean Irwin, and she was so small and frail, yet stronger than a horse pulling a carriage. She grew up in Indiana, where the house is currently standing, and lived as a farm wife, which of course contributed to her strength. Her house sits in Atwood, Indiana, one of the smallest towns left in possibly all of the United States. The dirt road leading up to it stretches near a mile long, then curves into a gray gravel driveway that I used to cut my feet on when I would run around barefoot. My favorite sound was the car's tires munching on the gravel while it spun between the wheels, and grinded against the other pieces underneath tons of pressure. The driveway is the only dull color in sight because anything past it was bright green, the kind of green you see on elf costumes around Christmas time. The fields stretched farther than you could see, like an emerald ocean of smooth grass that served as the setting of all the grandkids' games. The rule of "inside voices" never existed because there was no one around …show more content…
The living room had beige carpeting and a stone tile fireplace. There was a cream colored recliner in the corner of the room directly in front of the old-fashioned kitchen that Great-Grandma would sit in with her Golden Retriever Swish by her feet. The bedrooms were filled top to bottom with books ranging from fairy tales to "Pride and Prejudice". The reason that October third of 2012 was my favorite day was because I was never allowed in these bedrooms by myself because of the breakable pieces, and for the first time, while sorting through her stuff, I was able to see what all my great-grandma had lived through and

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