Personal Narrative: The Black Child

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Walking into a noisy, children filled room, a beautiful wrinkled old woman sits comfortably relaxed in a recliner next to the French doors in the front of the room. Keeping an eye on the kids, once in a while glancing at the news on television, my grandma Ivolene Adams noticed I had walked inside. “Celeny wieny!” she exclaimed, announcing I had walked into the room. The kids at my mom’s daycare, being used to her behavior, ignored her and continued along playing with each other and the toys scattered around the room.
Not a typical grandmother, at 82-years-old, she still dyes her hair. You may think she colors it an intense charcoal black but she uses a dark brown. She claims as long as she is able, dying her hair is something she will always
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One time, after Ivolene’s mom washed the dishes she brought the long haired neighbor girl into the kitchen and washed her hair in the greasy water. Another incident involving the young girl happened one evening when the girl’s parents were talking to Ivolene’s mom in front of their house. The little asked my grandma if she could cut her hair. My grandma, not hesitating, cut her lengthy beautiful blonde hair up to the girl’s shoulders. After this the neighbors never visited their house …show more content…
All three of them went out to eat together one evening, and three and a half weeks later Ivolene’s dad signed papers for them to get married. Eventually, they had 10 kids and moved to Eckerty, Indiana. “Isn’t it somethin we clicked like that?”, she said snapping her figures, “It’s a miracle”. “One time I went to the fridge thinking about him and when I touched the refrigerator it’s like a bolt of lightning went through me”, she said rubbing her arms. After 51 years of marriage, my grandpa Jesse passed away from the damage smoking had done to his lungs. Grandma says she will never marry anyone else because Jesse was her true love.
Nowadays, even after beating cancer for the third time, grandma still “runs around like a chicken with its neck rung” my mom says when friends ask how Ivolene’s doing. My boyfriend describes her as “[a] bad driver, funny, tough, [and] slightly insane”. Driving around in her old $300 Blazer, she has an unhealthy habit of stopping by almost every gas station she passes to buy lottery tickets. Here and there she has hit the jackpot but in reality she has spent more money trying to win then she has ever

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