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Grandpa's Hug This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   The deep blue summer sky almost matched the color of the ocean, making it

nearly impossible to see where they met.

The only clues were the white clouds floating on the water, which my grandpa called

sailboats.

Stepping onto the platinum sand of Jones Beach with my hand embraced in my grandpa's,

I was overcome with a magical feeling.

The hot sand was cooled by the gentle lapping of the ocean's hands.

My grandpa skillfully built a sand castle fit for a princess, while I helped.

Racing to the sea in my violet and pink bathing suit, my grandpa was right behind pretending he couldn't catch up.

The water trickled through my toes, and green ribbons of seaweed danced around my legs.

My grandpa wrapped a towel around my little body, and I wrapped my arms around his enormous neck.

A loving squeeze came in return.

It was my grandpa's hug.



The crisp autumn air inflated my lungs as I flew through the sky on the swing.

My grandpa's strong hand guided me as I flew back and forth.

Gusts of wind brought colored leaves down from their homes in the trees.

Excitement filled my eyes as I dawdled around Old Mill Road playground.

My once-white shoelaces became untied and my grandpa stopped me so he could tie them.

I gently kissed his forehead as he knelt in front of me.

His whirlpool hazel eyes looked in my blue, then took me into his arms.

It was my grandpa's hug.



Peeping through the lace curtains, I was welcomed by an immaculate white blanket.

The sky had opened up and released thousands of white rose petals.

My grandpa carried me out into this new land that had arrived overnight.

My winter scarf followed me as I played in this beautifully clean world.

Icicles formed on the twisted branches of my climbing tree.

Pulled by my grandpa, a shiny red sled hauled me along the snow covered sidewalk of Maeder Avenue.

Losing my balance, I tumbled off.

My grandpa's powerful arms swooped me up.

With a warm chuckle, he embraced me.

It was my grandpa's hug.



Wind whistled through the branches as I sat in the crooked tree.

The smell of lilacs in early spring permeated the yard.

Sunlight filtered through the apple blossoms, and strips of gold fell upon my tiny face.

The crimson ribbons in my hair rustled in the gentle breeze.

My bare feet dangled in the air, while my grandpa tried to tickle them.

His wrinkled face was old yet lively.

His brilliant smile looked up at me, and his eyes revealed a teasing but loving glimmer.

I jumped into his strong safe arms and let them swallow me into the depths of his emerald woolen sweater.

It was my grandpa's hug.



It was a gorgeous August day, but it seemed like the sun shouldn't shine at all.

At least it wasn't shining over my heart.

Tears constantly filled my eyes, making the world a total blur.

That was how I felt inside, now that my grandpa was gone.

I received many hugs that day, but nothing could compare to my grandpa's hug.




This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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