Personal Narrative Grandma

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Before the sun peaked upon the horizon, my family was already awake. My aunt would be busy hand washing the clothes as my grandma heats the buffalo milk in our five year old, steel pot for my uncle, cousins, and me. I remember the exact scene of silent hustle and tip toeing around my cousins’ sleeping bags to get dressed in the early hours of the day. By 5:40 am, grandma would rush me to drink my chocolate milk and two Parle G biscuits that my uncle would limit because he believed they were unhealthy. I still liked dipping them in my milk till they could soak no more and allowing the sugar pockets burst in my mouth. After breakfast, grandma would braid my hair with red ribbons as I tie my shoes. Slowly but surely, I created two loops, crossed

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