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Personal Narrative: My Father's 95 Silverado

Decent Essays
Gravel crunched beneath the tires of my father’s ’95 Chevy Silverado, the same way it had every time we drove up the steep, tortuous path to my grandmother’s home on Christmas Eve. There she was waving excitedly, dressed in her floral nightgown and fuzzy slippers as the snow floated downward around her. She corralled us inside away from the cold. Like I was as light as the snowflakes just beyond the door, she lifted me up into her arms. I laid my head against her chest as she guided my father and me into the living room adorned with wreaths and candles. I closed my eyes and inhaled the aroma of peppermint and freshly baked cookies as my grandmother held me tight. Lights from the glistening tree illuminated the room in red and green.…show more content…
He and the rest of the family would arrive the next morning to celebrate the holiday. I closed my eyes and inhaled the aroma of peppermint and freshly baked cookies as my grandmother held me tight. Lights from the glistening tree illuminated the room in red and green. Rocking back and forth, she combed her hands through my hair, all the while praising me for every inch I had grown since my last visit. Christmas was tomorrow, and I could hardly contain myself.
Each Christmas my cousin, Tyler, and I would be dropped off at Grandma’s to anxiously anticipate Santa Claus’s arrival together. For only being exactly a month older than I, Tyler was quite the opposite. Red, pin-straight hair barely obscured his freckled forehead and blue eyes. His temper was as fiery as hair. My easy going nature and desire to please often clashed with his stubborn demeanor, but he was my confidant, playmate, and best
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She reached over for the LeapFrog books and smiled encouragingly. We were too drowsy to fight her persistence. I might as well pass time waiting for the rest of the family by appeasing her. She placed a novel containing volumes of fairy tales into the LeapFrog. Painstakingly, I flipped the first few pages but to my surprise, it came alive. It was not like any other book I had seen before. Instead of dull pages filled with monotonous monologue, adventure and color flowed from the stories. It even came with a stylus that vocalized the sentences when tapped upon. I became so engaged in the book that before I knew it, I had read through all the stories twice. The excitement of guessing the word before the stylus brought out my competitive nature. Somewhere between the description of the stone castle and magical lands Tyler had dozed off, but I was still captivated. When the words became too difficult to pronounce, Grandmother helped me to sound out each syllable. The words began to flow and without noticing I was discovering the joy of reading my grandmother
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