Personal Narrative: Granddaddy's Impact On My Life

Gently swaying back and forth in an ancient wooden rocker I listen to the rusty hum of the tired oak thumping the blues. Reminiscing, I recall Granddaddy a towering man with wavy, red hair, freckled fair-skin, and easygoing blue eyes. Consequently, I notice a timeworn black and white photo sitting on a shelf with an image of a smiling, confident child and I consider Granddaddy’s impact on my life.
In the picture, a pintsize straw hat sits on top of my curls. Wearing marching boots on my petite feet scuffed from the days of romping through childhood, I pose proudly holding a cane-fishing pole, which allows one to feel the slightest nibble of a catch. In the other hand, I clutch a minute string of wee perch and I remember squealing with delight when the fish dart around on the water’s shallow edge while Granddaddy sits close concentrating on the art of fishing in deeper …show more content…
As sunlight fades from the room, I come across a stinging remembrance of long ago. Peeking in on a Sunday afternoon in a faintly lit apartment, I hear the piercing sound of my young parents fiercely arguing. Watching Dad shove my mother, I follow her pleas for me to call Granddaddy. Hurrying out the front door into the foyer where the telephone sits on a stand I attempt to dial Granddaddy’s number, however, I can only remember the first three digits. Frantically racing back inside to tell my mom I freeze in the doorway as my father abruptly grabs my younger sister, threatening to leave forever. Paralyzed with fear, I beg with my eyes for him to scoop me up into his arms too. In the succeeding moment, he turns and stomps out the door carrying my sister with him; he never notices me. As my mother collapses sobbing for somebody to assist, sorrow blankets me. Later that afternoon Granddaddy rescues Mom and