I believe that sometimes things have more meaning than you think. For example if something has sentimental value to you than it will mean more to you than to someone else.
My story began in the fifth grade. Our class, waiting for long weekend coming up, was working a paper where we had to write a biography about someone we knew. I chose to write about my grandpa because I thought he was the coolest person in the world. To me he is an angle, protective and always watching over me. He owned his own business, called Jenine, which was wife’s name. He also loved to play golf, like me. But most of all he loved spending time with his family.
When it was coming to the time when our class hosted a luncheon for the people we wrote about, and when it was about the time my grandpa was flying in from Connecticut, I got the stomach flu. “Just great,” I thought, “I had the stomach flu five days before the luncheon.”
As the days counted down, I didn’t get any better; I got worse. The luncheon was on Friday and on Thursday I was as sick as a dog. I disappointingly told my mom, I couldn’t go to the luncheon. She agreed since I was walking like one of the Three Stooges’ who always got poked in the eyes.
I could tell when I told my grandpa, I couldn’t go, he looked disappointed. Then and there is when I realized the biography, I wrote, represented his life journey and how the got here today, and all he wanted to do was share that with me and my class mates. I got up, stomach aching and head throbbing, and told him I was going to the luncheon.
I had a great time at the luncheon; I could tell my grandpa did too. That made me exited because I know I made him feel that way.
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