It all started on November 28, 2010. It was a Thursday. “Grandma, are we there yet?” I kept bugging her. “Almost,” she replied. So we kept driving. As we were driving, I stared out my window looking at the red,orange, and yellow leaves falling from the trees. I could tell we were getting close. The reason why I knew we were so close is because the roads were getting smaller and smaller, the buildings were getting closer and closer together. The city was getting louder and louder. I could feel the excitement of knowing that we were almost there. Finally my grandpa exclaimed with excitement. “Were here” “Yes, now we just have to take the train for two and a half more hours then we will be there,” I thought to myself. As we were in the train, my grandpa and grandma and I were staring out the window and seeing all the cars and other trains, on our way to Seattle. “I can’t wait. This will be awesome!” I remarked. “I can’t wait to get there too!” my grandpa replied. Then all of a sudden “Errrrrrrrr” I hear the sound of the train stopping. …show more content…
My grandpa and I went to go get our tickets for the Seahawk’s game, while my grandma went to go see her friend Nancie. “Alright, I’ll see you guys after the game. OK?”, my grandma asked. “Ok, have fun,” I replied. Wait I don’t remeber them talking about a plan to meet up, oh well they probally talked about it before we came I thought to my self. “Sweet, we’re here, Grandpa. Let’s go get our tickets,” I yelled with excitement. After we said bye, we went to go get our tickets. “We’re up next i'm so excited!” I yelled. After that we got our tickets and went through the whole procedure of checking our ticket, going through security, and finally we got inside the
The drive to cross the Kentucky border had taken hours and hours of strenuous patience to finally arrive in another state. The view was by far country like as hints of cow manure could be smelled far from a distance. We drive through small towns, half the size of our hometown of Glen Ellyn had been the biggest town we've seen if not smaller. The scenery had overwhelmed us, as lumps of Earth from a great distance turned to perfectly molded hills, but as we got closer and closer to our destination the hills no longer were hills anymore, instead the hills had transformed to massive mountains of various sizes. These mountains surrounded our every view as if we had sunken into a great big deep hole of green pastures. Our path of direction was seen, as the trails of our road that had followed for numerous hours ended up winding up the mountainous mountains in a corkscrew dizzy-like matter.
The book Grandpa and Thomas provides many opportunities for students to make meaning of this text. Text-to-self connections can be made by students remembering times when they have ever gone to the beach, or gone on a special outing with their grandpa. Relating this text back to other Pamela Allan te...
On the Run Run. The only word repeats in my head: Run. I cannot stop, I am not allowed. No matter how much I am gasping for oxygen to reach my lungs, I cannot. No matter how much my legs burn and ache, I cannot.
They replied, “Almost, Buddy.” Lastly, we’re in Florida! But, before the fun can start, we have to do some other stuff. We have to take my grandfather to our relatives in Miami. So, we now have to drive 4 hours from Orlando to Miami, cramped up in the white van.
Grandma now is in charge of watching out over us. And in spirit she joins us today.
I met Dorothy thirteen years ago. Ever since anybody on North Liberty Street can remember, she and my grandmother have been best friends. That being said, I spent most of my childhood sitting in Dorothy’s kitchen eating peanut butter cookies. I was instantly comfortable with Jack and Dorothy, and it wasn’t very long until I made myself feel quite at home when we would visit. Two siblings and several years later, I found it “uncool” to spend time with my grandma and listen to Sunday’s gossip, so the visits became shorter until they were almost non-existent.
The one area we haven’t really discussed in detail is the amount of negative space on your walls. Not only do you need to be able to see the wall from floor to ceiling on as much of the wall area as you can, but also you need to be able to see wall space between the pieces that you have hanging. Keep a minimum of four feet of space between large pieces and limit the amount of small pieces you hang. Do not use small pieces as a way to fill in negative space. Negative space is the exact thing you are trying to achieve. You can hang a few small pictures together in a small and tight gallery style. This will allow you to display your favorite family photos without taking up negative space on the walls.
“ Well of course, ” answered my father, “It’ll just be like I’m out of town for a very long time. Y’all will see me every other weekend.”
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
When I look at my grandpa I still see the man who would invent songs to entertain me on our eight hour road trips to Mammoth. I see the man who my six year old self admired for
All I heard was heavy hooves ready to trample me over. And in a matter of time I would be crushed into the very dirt I was standing on. To begin, it was around noon when my dad's friend Brad called. I answered since my dad and I were driving to Taco bell to get some tacos for lunch.
Habits of the Creative Minds is a simple textbook with a particular twist. I began reading the book thinking it was going to be a basic textbook, but the author,Richard E. Miller and Ann Jurecic, changed the tone of the book and put it into a metaphor. This metaphor was about the reader in your writing, or for anyone reading should feel like Alice in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. The reader should be reading, and figuratively fall into the reading, by this the authors means the reader should not want to put that book down. They should be engulfed in the book and read from cover to cover. The attention must be maintained and the best way to do this is by making the writing unique. The authors of this book puts
I slowly opened the front door -- the same old creak echoed its way throughout the old house, announcing my arrival just seconds before I called out, "Grandma!" She appeared around the corner with the normal spring in her steps. Her small but round 5'1" frame scurried up to greet me with a big hug and an exclamation of, "Oh, how good to see you." It was her eighty-fifth birthday today, an amazing feat to me, just part of everyday life to her. The familiar mix of Estee Lauder and old lotion wafted in my direction as she pulled away to "admire how much I've grown." I stopped growing eight years ago, but really, it wasn't worth pointing this fact out. The house, too, smelled the same as it's ever smelled, I imagine, even when my father and his brothers grew up here more than forty years ago -- musty smoke and apple pie blended with the aroma of chocolate chip cookies. The former was my grandfather's contribution, whose habit took him away from us nearly five years ago; the latter, of course, comes from the delectable delights from my grandmother's kitchen. Everything was just as it should be.
I had thought of this day for months and , now that the day had come I couldn't wait. We were going to America. We loaded our wooden trunk onto our mule and headed to the train station. My brother, my mother, and I were going to get on a train in Cak Cak Yak Yak
“Ug, fine”my brother said mad. “Alright we have everything”my mom said. “let's go.” I said. We were on the road for a good two hours until we stopped to get breakfast.