The Life Of My Grandmother

As a young girl I was attached to the hip of my grandmother. Every morning, before my parents went to work, my father would drop me off at my grandparents house so they could watch me for the day. Although, my parents hated to leave me, I always looked forward to spending the day at my grandparents. As soon as my father and I pulled in the driveway, my grandmother would meet me at the door. I walked into her house and could hear the bacon sizzling, and eggs frying on the stove. I walked into the kitchen and pulled up a barstool and started helping my grandmother knead the dough for the biscuits. She popped the biscuits in the oven, and started to clean the house. All of a sudden the fire alarm started going off. Oh no! She said. The kitchen was filled with smoke, she began to cough as she opened the oven door. She quickly took the biscuits out of the oven. My grandmother looked so frustrated. She was quick as a whip and for her to forget something like this aggravated her. After breakfast, we would go play outside in the garden planting pink rose bushes, then finish the rest of the day indoors reading Tom Sawyer to me. Finally, my father came and picked me back up and took me home. My father asked me what I did during the day, and I told him about the fire. He had a worried look on his face. He came home and talked to mom, and she immediately called my grandmother. The next day, my father did not take me to see my grandmother instead I stayed at my aunt’s house, I quickly