The Smell Of Warm Cookies Essay
“Well Shelby, since you have a problem with me drinking, you can just get your ass right out my house!” She yelled at me while my siblings just stood around and watched.
“I don’t want to be here. You act like you don’t love me anyways, so why should I stay here with you if you 're drunk and acting crazy all the time?” I asked her.
“Trust me, I don’t want you here as much as you don’t want to be here. You 're just another mouth to feed. Now get out if you 're going!” I walked out of that house watching her sip some more liquor from her red cup.
Just thinking about how I left the house, gives me chills. I left to make a statement. I want to show her that I don’t need her. That’s what grandma’s house is for.
I throw my backpack on the floor in the living room, shaking the memory out of my head. I walk into the kitchen and see grandma baking my favorite cookies. “There 's my favorite grandchild,” Grandma says welcoming me into her home. I embrace her tight. “You can go put your things down in your room, I made it very comfortable for you,” Grandma says letting me go as I pick up my backpack and begin to walk up the stairs. The old wooden stairs creak under my feet as I walk up them one at a time. The picture frames…