Personal Narrative

There is nothing greater than helping your grandparents on their large ranch in the middle of Kansas. That was what I was thinking as I hopped on my grandmother Patrice’s horse named Watermelon. My mother told me, my grandparents owned a gigantic ranch, so I instantly wanted to come out and help them and learn how to care for cattle. They had a bunch of cattle on their farm that they have to care for everyday. My mother decided to have me assist them with caring for their animals. Once I climbed back up on my horse, I rode up to my grandpa Jim, who was waiting for me on his horse. My grandfather squinted his peaceful brown eyes at me then asked in his old and deep, raspy voice, “We are traveling along this trail to check on how the cattle are doing. After that, we will ride to the chicken pen and feed the chickens if we have time. Ready?” …show more content…
The reason why I was full of alacrity was because I rarely had the chance to see them or participate in any activities with my old grandparents. After I replied to grandpa Jim, I spurred my horse thinking that it’ll peacefully walk over to the path. Instead, it rose onto his hind legs which caused me to slip off of my leather saddle. When I fell to the ground, I landed extremely hard on some rocks. As I was falling I almost landed on a dark blue salamander that was on a unique rock. Thankfully, it scurried away just before I touched the ground. It wasn’t the greatest pain I endured in my life, yet it left me with tears in my blue eyes. Some grass and chunks of dried dirt flew in my mouth and it tasted awful. I immediately spit it out of my