Essay on Personal Narrative : My Grandmother 's Visit

Essay on Personal Narrative : My Grandmother 's Visit

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I knew that my grandmother’s visit was always short and sweet, for she always had to return to America while I went back to my distressing life at home with my uncle. She would always come down to Fiji for about two weeks, twice a year, but on this particular holiday, life was going to change. My grandmother walks into the hotel room, after visiting the embassy in town, and gives me the biggest hug and kiss while I am sitting on the bed. She says, “Grandma is taking you to America next week. Do you want to come?” She hands me a passport with my picture in it; I immediately flip the passport book open and stare at my picture with a muddled look. I ask her “Is this real? Am I going to America?” She says yes and then we both, immediately, start jumping on the bed celebrating, laughing, and hugging. My cheeks stretched as wide as they could, and my face began to hurt because it had been a while since I smiled that hard. At this point, it is just my grandmother and I, acting like children in our hotel room, dancing on the bed and acting silly. She then tells me to call for room service and to wait in the room while she makes a phone call outside. I ask her before she departs, “Grandma, do I have to go back home and get my stuff?” She tells me that I can forget about everything at home and that she will get my new clothes later on that day. I tell her, “I don’t want to go back to that house.” She assures me, with certainty that I never have to go back as she is on her way out of the hotel room. As soon as the door closes behind her, silence fills the room as I sit on the chair thinking about my life up until that point. Thoughts are rushing through my mind, wildly, because I didn’t have enough time to react accordingly to my emotions, a...

... middle of paper ..., older, tan woman sat next to me on the bench. She said “Hello Lei, its so nice to see you.” I said “hello” while dragging the letter “o” in sound and looking down at the asphalt. I thought to myself, who is this woman? She hands me a koala bear with a Fiji five-dollar note and says, “ I got this for you, hope you like it!” I take the bear while still conjuring thoughts in my mind of trying to place her face somewhere familiar in memory. I could not find a match. She then gives me a hug and leaves. I am speechless and shocked by the strange encounter. My friends run to me, as if I were a relay champion who had just run through the finish line. Their questions, inquisitive as ever as, about who she was and why did she give me a stuffed animal didn’t deter my attention away from that tall, tanned woman’s back, who was walking through the playground out to the street.

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