Learning From Grandfather (Grandpa) Essays -- Personal Narrative Profi

Learning From Grandfather My brother and I are playing on the porch steps, and are being watched intently by my grandmother. She gently rocks on the old cream colored swing, which proclaims of its lack of oil with every movement of its chains. The green indoor-outdoor carpeting that covers the steps too shows its age, with concrete poking through the edges. It scratches my legs as I sit and build things with my legos, but I have gotten used to the feeling. Today isn’t too hot, but the cool breeze that blows through is a welcome change. That breeze rustles through the lone apple tree that stands in the center of the yard. To my young eyes the tree seems ancient, worth nothing more than the robins nest in its twisted old branches, the apples it manages to produce worm ridden and sour. But while the quality was low, the quantity was large enough that apples littered the ground. This was quite evident as my Dad moved the grass. The drone of the engine and blade would stop every few seconds as applesauce was made. The mower was an older model and hadn't a bag, so pieces of the apples could be fired a distance. To prevent this, my grandpap and Dad would rake up most of them, but a few were always missed. As Dad cut the grass, my Grandpap, dressed in his white tee shirt and blue pants as always, raked the grass into several neat piles. The scent of freshly mown grass and tart apple mingled with the ozone smell of the air. A wonderful scent, if only it were not interrupted with a bout of headache inducing exhaust from the mower. I, as the eldest child, had the honor of helping rake up the grass. Later in the day, when Dad had finished, the mounds would be transferred to a metal garbage can, and then taken down the all... ...I think my Dad agreed, but neither of us would tell Grandpap that. Although I was unafraid to leave the porch, my brother preferred to stay on the swing with grandma. My bravery didn’t last long, as Dad took the grass to the pile without my customary wheel barrow ride. As I hugged Grandpap and Grandma goodbye I asked him, â€Å"Why didn’t you just kill the snake?† He replied,† It has just as much right to live as the robins in the tree, Edward. The snake was just lost. It probably wouldn’t have hurt any of us. Once you kill something, you can’t change it. You’ve ended that thing forever.† Of the many things I learned from my Grandfather, none have stayed so clear in my mind as that one, the value of life. It was a great pity that I didn’t have long to learn from him, as he died a scant three years later, but the lessons that I did will stay with me forever.