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"Stepping into the Picture"

I was strolling through the park, my right hand in my pocket, my left hand tightly clasping a water bottle. It was late February, the twenty-sixth to be exact. The air was crisp and cool, not a single drop of moisture skipping through the air. The section of the park I was walking in was isolated and secluded, so not a single sound penetrated the densely packed trees. The trees overhead were standing straight and tall, moss dripping down from the high branches, as if the trees were weeping with grief. They should have been because the day before, February 25th, my grandmother, Nana as I called her, had passed away from a terrible case of lung cancer. She had never smoked a single day in her life, so the news came to me as a huge shock…. It was as if I had just walked into an invisible, brick wall. As I walked quietly through the park, tears began to form in my eyes. I remembered all the great times we had together: when she took me to the zoo when I was eight, the time she rubbed my chest with Vick’s when I was eleven, and the time she helped me pick out my tux for my senior prom when I was seventeen. Nana and I had a special connection, not able to be described by words. So as I kept remembering and remembering, the tears began to pour down my face like a waterfall. They stained the dirt path, leaving miniature puddles of water every few feet. I stopped walking, wiped my face with my jacket sleeve, and took a small sip of water. I decided I would turn around, go back home, curl up with a nice, warm cup of hot chocolate, and watch one of Nana’s favorite movies: Finding Nemo. I headed toward my car, leaving more small puddles of tears with every step that I took.





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headinclouds said...
Jan. 20, 2011 at 10:18 pm
It was intense, and then you mentioned finding nemo and i laughed(:
 
living.in.the.present. replied...
Jan. 20, 2011 at 10:22 pm
:P :P :P i thought it would :)
 
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