Home Room - Original Writing

Decent Essays

I yawned, as I sat next to her in the dark nursing home room. The room was small, with a little TV in the corner that always had a show in black and white on. The walls were covered in posters of Snoopy and the Peanuts clan. I nudged my mom, signaling that I wanted to go home. She shook her head, and I let out a quiet sigh. It was late. I looked at my Grandma Karen (I used to call her Ma) who lay motionless in her bed. Her big brown eyes were wandering around the room, looking through her messy dark hair. I wondered what she was thinking about. We sat there in silence for a moment. I studied her breathing; I saw her take a big deep breath in, and she sang, “Take me out to the ball game! Take me out with the crowd! Buy me some peanuts and crackerjacks! I don 't care if I never get back! Let me root, root, root for the home team! If they don 't win it 's a shame! Ahh! For it 's one, two, three strikes you 're out, at the old ball game!” I sat in the chair next to her, not knowing what to think or why she just sang. I hadn’t heard her say that many words in a row in a long, long time. “That’s a great song,” my mom whispered, grabbing Grandma’s hand. She gave me a tight smile. It wasn’t a comforting smile. It was the kind of worried smile that parents give to their children to try to signal that everything is okay; my stomach tied in knots. That night became a blur. My mom called my Aunt Shaune and my Grandpa, telling them she think something is wrong. I

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