Favorite People - Katie's

Katie wrote a piece about her grandmother (my mother) this year. Her grandmother, shown as a woman in her 70s speaking about modern dance, passed away several years ago at a ripe old age of 95. Obviously, I like this piece for multiple reasons. Katie's teacher, Ms. Campbell, had her develop this piece in a "writer's workshop," with lots of attention to fiction elements, such as dramatic beginnings that catch the reader's attention, to imagery the appeals to the senses, to dialogue that brings breath and immediacy to a narrative, and to flashbacks that serve emotional purposes. If you click on the attachment at the bottom, you will see more information along these lines.

The Last Time I Saw Grandma by Katie C. Ding! Cachlank! and we stepped off. The elevator slammed behind us. I first ran all the way down the hallway and stopped at the dead end of the hallway where a lime green and orange chair was, where lots of wide leaf greens were hanging. Then I heard Dad call. “Katie, it’s the other way!” “Oh, no!” I thought as I ran all the way back. How many floors are there in a nursing home like this? Will she look any different? Does every apartment look the same? Will she remember me? I also thought as I ran. “ It’s room 241 not room 136!” explained my dad. We entered room 241. “Hello,” greeted a caretaker. “She’s over here.”

As we rounded the corner I saw the short white hair, bony hands and loving eyes, wrinkled cheeks and warm smile of Grandma. Her bed was a warm dark pink wool blankets among lots of other woven blankets. Her bed was on the left with a light, light gray bed rest. The room had a warm touch to it, tan walls, some old pictures on the wall of dancers, dark tan rug, glass mirror which was actually a closet near the door, and a view of almost red, rocky snowcapped mountains from the porch. The door to the porch was open because it was warm, sunny California. I walked out onto the black steel porch, looked around and saw the black pavement in the colorful cars scattered across the parking lot. Then I walked back to where Grandma was with my dad, my uncle, my cousin, and my other uncle.

“Hi Grandma!” I said finally.

“Hello dear. Who is this?”

“It’s Katie.”

“Oh, what a wonderful name, Katie.”

I hugged her but I felt a little different this time. I didn’t hear her say her usual “Yum Yum Yum” which she says to people she knows really well. It was different, it felt different. It wasn’t a “I-know-you hug, it was a shy I-don’t-know-you hug.

“Why don’t we take some pictures?”

“Okay,” I said.

“Say cheese.”

“Cheese!”

I leaned in closer, so did my cousin. Grandma put her hand on my cheek. I felt the warmth of her bony palm. I felt the tiny spaces between the woven thread. My uncle positioned his grip and moved his pointer finger up and down, then I heard a chaclink and the picture was taken. Grandma let go quickly but slowed down after her hand was off my cheek, as if eager to let go.

“Katie, could you take a picture of us?”

“Sure,” I agreed, then leaned in closer. I positioned the camera and felt the cold shiver of the metal. Then I pushed on the button. At first it was easy to push, then it stiffened at the end. Click! The picture was taken.

Chop, chop, chop, ding, ding! I heard from the peach-colored, flowered kitchen. Three caretakers gathered to help bring in the fresh, newly-chopped watermelon, with no seeds. One of their caretakers knelt down besides for and the table with a lamp. The caretaker held out the oval, white plate with a layered rim, a thin coat of pinkish-colored water from the watermelon scattered around the plate. She held it level to the white sheet of the bed, forked a watermelon and tried to feed it to Grandma, who swallowed it but coughed it up soon after.

How come she can’t eat, I thought. Oh, no, if she can’t eat...! I stopped my thought, it couldn’t happen, it just couldn’t.

I thought back to a couple of years ago, happier times. Chrungch went the pebbles on the driveway. We stopped the car. I could see the thin woods and the small white house beyond it with a fake plastic deer grazing in the front yard. The car was locked.

“Let me out!” I protested.

“Okay, okay,” answered my dad.

“Patience is a virtue,” my mom urged.

“I know, I know.” I said, a little irritated.

I heard a click and the door swung open with a faint squeak. I hopped out quickly. I ran across the gray pebbles. As I ran, I looked up at the green trees canopying over the long driveway and blocking some parts of the gray clouds that stretched for miles and miles. I could smell the crisp air that lingered around and smell like rain. I ran over to the stone wall which held the stone steps in place.

“Come on,” I urged.

They quickened their pace to keep up with me. Tip tap went my feet against the hard gray stone steps. I looked around at the clouded scenery and at the holly green four-leafed weeds covering most of the garden. I looked at the huge rectangular window, framed by the gray faded wood of the old barn house and saw something in the window. As I looked closer, I realized it was a person, not just any old person; it was grandma! She was waving happily with a broad smile on her face with her usual short bushy white hair and a faded pink sweater and a white turtleneck on. Wrinkled cheeks and the shine from the window making her a little more difficult to see, but I managed fine. I could still see her big, blue eyes. I waved back quickly and smiled back at her. I would see her soon I walked up the red door with the gold handle. I rang the doorbell with the little yellow light in it which made it glow and rang it. There was a slight pause, then I heard click click and the door swung open to reveal Grandma’s caretaker smiling and saying, “Come in, come in!” We stepped inside. “Katie, Katie! Come on, it’s time to go.” “Aww, five more minutes.”

For some reason, I felt different leaving Grandma. I didn’t know that this was the last time I would see her, and (some months later) we would be driving home from the grocery store and Mom would come running out of the house and we would get the news that Grandma had died. But then I didn’t have any idea. We closed the door to the cheery apartment and made our way back to the elevator. The door slid together and it started to move down, down, down, till it came to a halt. Little did I know that this was the last time I would hug, talk to, or see Grandma, even though I didn’t know it.