When most people are asked who their hero is, their minds would become as clogged as a rush hour traffic jam in Los Angeles. Would I be one of the cars driving on that freeway? No.
There is always one person lingering at the back of my mind. He is not the one who leaps and flies over enormous skyscrapers to save the world. He is not the one who turns into a spider and shoots out web with his bare fingers. He is my grandpa. He is the hero who saves the world in my heart.
It was almost December, and Jonas was beginning to be frightened. First sentence into reading The Giver, and my heavy eyelids already felt as if they were going to sink right into the book.
My grandpa loved this book. He would read it over and over again and would talk about it twenty-four seven. Sitting at the dinner table, going out to the park, or even right before school, it was all Jonas this and the Giver that. Whenever we talked, whether it was about sports, homework, or current events, the conversation would always lead back to the book. My grandpa really wanted me to read it. “You have to read it... You have to!” Those words were on limitless replay in my mind. It felt as if he had pushed a thousand weights onto my shoulders, forcing me to read The Giver. I had no choice but to read it.
I did not think that finishing one sentence was going to be so hard. My negative attitude was getting the best of me and pessimistic thoughts were piling up inside of me. The cover is creepy, the old man’s face is frightening, the blurb is not intriguing, the font is too small, there are too many pages… It was 10:00am and there was no excuse to fall asleep.
Frightened meant that deep, sickening feeling of something terrible about to happen. My eyes traced the second sentence of the book, as my interest rolled down an endless hill. I tilt my head towards the window, watching the early May sunshine stroke my arms with soft, golden fingertips. How much harm could one tiny catnap do? I gave into the warmth and my eyes slipped closed. Then I forced them to open again. One tiny catnap could make my always-happy grandpa turn his eyebrows inwards and his mouth downwards. One tiny catnap could make my grandpa furious and dejected at the same time. One tiny catnap would be an insult to his part.
It’s all about the posture. Chin in palm said bored. Chin on knuckles said in deep thought. I decided to pose like the statue, The Thinker. Frightened was the way he had felt a year ago when an unidentified aircraft had overflown the community twice. I could not withstand another sentence. Three, two, one and into my hazy dreams I went. I had fallen asleep.
There was no sound to wake me up. The hair on the back of my neck prickled and my heart changed rhythm. Skipping one beat. Then another. My silent dreams were then interrupted by a large “BANG!” to my head. I was afraid to open my eyes, but I did. I blinked blearily and lifted my head up. It was my grandfather
I couldn’t believe it. My grandfather had used his own bare hands to smack me on the head. A feeling of grief and exasperation closed around me like a fist. I had never been hit before, never by my mother, never by my father, or even by my brother. Goosebumps chose to rise on my arms as panic shot through me like a shock from a bad plug. No, this could no have been happening. It’s all a dream. Wake up, Michelle. It’s all a dream. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I had not been stuck in my endless nightmare; however, my act of reassurance had just made things worse. My grandpa used his other hand to smack me right on my shoulder. It was definitely not a dream. I felt my grandpa’s hands go through me. I felt it in my bones. My heart screamed. The pain hit me like darts, needling me toward the impossible truth. I was looking for words to say, but I stopped at “wow.” My grandpa had hit me, he
1923 in a small town in the Philippines, and he is the reason why his family had the opportunity to live in America. At the age of 55, my grandpa came to Hawaii along with my grandma and my aunty to work on the sugar plantation factory., he worked really hard and now all that hard work has paid off, all of his kids are living a better life here in America. My grandfather has been one of two individuals that have been an influential part in developing me into the person I am today. He has shown…
really tremendous impact on me. My grandfather passed away two years ago on December 15, 2011. Since then, not a day has gone by where he has not crossed my mind. Ever since I was little, my grandfather and I had a specific bond. In the vast majority of all my pictures from birth till age seven, my grandfather was holding me. Although my parents were never absent in my life, they worked a lot. My grandfather was the one who practically raised me. He did everything for my family; you think it, he did…
A couple of years ago, I was mowing the lawn in my grandmother’s backyard. It was extremely hot and the sun was beating down relentlessly. Then all of a sudden, I spotted an object under the six inches of grass. I picked up the faded pink object only to discover that is was a monkey. Not a real monkey, but one of those monkeys from those Barrels of Monkeys. At that moment when I first realized that it was a monkey, I immediately thought of my grandfather. He had passed away some eight or nine…
cozy apartment alone. My parents were not at home, they went out for work. I was extremely hungry, I found every comestible stuff and ate it; however, those were just a little even not enough for a small boy. In that difficult situation, I tried to find a way to make myself full. There were thousands of methods went through my mind. Suddenly my “light bulb” appeared on top of my head, “That is such a brilliant ideal.” Then I was running into the spacious bedroom of my parents. There was an…
person I admire may not be famous to you, but in my life he is. This man is my retired marine, grandpa, Dennis. There are many of things I admire about this man, but I certainly love how supportive, helping, and smart he is. He’s always there when times are tough no matter who you are, your race, or your religion. My grandpa has always supported me at all times no matter the circumstances. He has a whole lot of faith in such a young girl. If my grandpa didn’t like the idea I was going for if I really…
Inspiration in my life/who i look up to My grandpa Johnny Sawyers Ethan Seal My story goes back to my childhood where all I can remember for the most part is being outside or doing something to get me in trouble. My bestfriend would always come over to see me and play. I’ve been friends with this guy for a while and were still best friends to this day. He is a little bit older than me but i don’t really care about that. We have a strong bond that would take a lot to break. My bestfriend is my grandpa Johnny Sawyers…
to the fundimental start of our lives? Morty: Uhh yeah.. Muwa: It was so simple then. We have grown so much from humble beginnings. There is something I’ve needed to tell you for years. Morty: Muwa.. Muwa: Something that’s burned my soul! Agony! Agony! Morty: What is it my brother?? Muwa: Morty...one time I accidentally used your toothbrush, but I didn’t tell you. I- I am so sorry. Hope: THE AGONY. THEY AGONY, AUDIENCE, DO YOU NOT SEE THIS? Narrator: AGONY- OH THE GERMS, AND THE POSSIBLE RISK OF DENTAL…
can make a difference in the way people think because people in my generation have been raised different from others who are older than. My tolerance for ambiguity tends changes from person to person. My boyfriend’s grandpa had a stroke a couple years back and he has a tough time speaking and conveying to people what he wants. We go visit his grandpa from time to time and when we do, we do most of the talking. But when his grandpa wants to talk he will start his sentence something like “ I la-la-la-like…
I begged my parents to move to California since my Grandpa passed away I want to move to California because he is buried there and I could visit him and my Grandma everyday. I wish and hope we visit them on Spring Break. My Parents are still deciding whether or not we should move to California Or Stay in Arizona because money is tight. But if we move I will leave all my friends but if I move to California I will be with…
Cooper 1 Brittney Cooper Comp 1 Essay 1 February 5th, 2013 Blueberry Morningsnow How it feels to be Body Modified Tattoos in my family have not been looked highly on in my family; it was okay for others to have them, but not us. I had always thought they were very expressive and beautiful. Tattoos tell a person’s life story. My great uncles all have them, but my grandparents, uncle and mom were all pretty against them. Everyone discouraged me to get any because they were permanent, and one day…