Grandma and Grandpa - I Miss You :: Personal Narrative Profile

I miss you gramps   I flirt with spending summers in Kansas with grandad. I grew up in the suburbs - spending summers in Kansas was a bit of culture shock.   I remember waking up early and sitting around the kitchen table and listening while granddad and my mom sipped coffee and talked. The Hutch paper was always spread crosswise the table, and inevitably, the conversation would turn to me.   He probably fails all his classes, dont he? Grandpa would ask. A slow smile would spread across his aging grammatical construction as his gaze shifted from my mom to me. I dont think so, Grandpa, Id respond, partially cognize he was joking, and partially wanting to prove myself. Then hed lean dorsum in his chair and look up at the ceiling. No, youre a smashing kid. Youre a reliable kid. Hed say quietly. Hed comment on a invention Id written, the one ab reveal spies and a nuclear power plant in Libya. I was in fourth grade at the time. That was a good story you wrote. You g ot that from your great-great-grandfathers brother... Hed go on telling me about my distant telling the author, and how thats where my writing came from.   Later in the morning Id climb into the rusty pick-me-up with Grandpa and the sandy colored dog, Cherie. Wed drive the quarter mile by means of and through Raymond to the tiny post office to get the mail, Grandpas callused hand hanging out the window. Sometimes Id wait in the truck, watching farmers come and go through town, wondering why it took so long to get the mail. Sometimes I followed Grandpa in.   Hi Les, the woman behind the counter would say as we walked in. Whos the handsome young man? Who, him? That ugly kid? Hell, I dunno, Grandpa would respond, rubbing his chin and looking at me. Oh, Les, the woman said. Hes my grandson. Kerrys boy? shed ask. Yep. I could tell, he looks a lot like him. Yeah, him and his brother are visitin from De-troit. I gotta entertain the little turds for a couple of weeks. That was Grandpa.   Later wed end up at Ikes Windmill and Farm Supply. Grandpa would drink more coffee, bullet train a Marlboro, and joke with Geno and Ike, and whoever happened to come through the door.   I remember trips to the fish Gas Station, when Grandpa would treat my brother and I to a glass bar and a pop.