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The Visit This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   I slowly opened the small brownish door and entered the tiny cluttered foyer of the apartment. My grandma sat in her lumpy recliner reading her tattered and worn Bible. For a few seconds I just watched her, studied her large, light-brown eyes sparkling in the dim light, noted the soft sea of streaked grey hair on top of her head, glistening in the light peeping through the dingy old blinds. I could hear the old radio in the next room prattling proudly on my granddad's busy nightstand. My grandfather had not come back from fishing yet. My grandma looked up and that special, serene "grandmother" smile flooded her face with happiness at seeing me in the doorway. "Hey, Tyrone," she greeted me, "Watchu doin' 'round here?"

"I just stopped by to visit you, E.T." I mumbled into her long neck as I hugged and kissed her.

I chatted with my grandmother for a while talking about school, my family in Boston, and my older brother, Tom, who live in Rochester, New York. Because I was thirsty, I headed for the kitchen to get a soft drink. As I neared it, I smelled the strong aroma of freshly-fried fish, my grandfather's daily snack. As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, I heard the familiar, low, uneven hum of the ugly old clock that hung on the wall over the kitchen table. I walked over to the refrigerator and paused with my hand on the handle. As I looked at all the magnets covering the entire front of the refrigerator, I began thinking back on all the good times and the bad times I had shared with my grandma and grandfather.

I remembered the time my grandma had broken up a fight between me and another boy. I had started to cry and her comforting shoulder was ready to cushion the emotions that were spilling out of me. I recalled going down south for two weeks with my grandparents. I also thought about the time those two old folks took me apple-picking. Painfully, I remembered the time my grandma had been rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery. That was the only time I'd ever known her to go to the hospital. I was scared.

Looking at my watch, I realized I had to be home by six o'clock. Without ever opening the refrigerator, I returned to the foyer where my grandma, who was still sitting in her recliner, had resumed reading her Bible. She once again looked up at me and gave me that special smile. I promised her I'd come back tomorrow, and that made her smile even more radiantly. I leaned over, hugged my grandma, gave her a light, gentle kiss on her forehead, and quietly left the apartment. n



Editor's Note: Tyrone added in a note that he and his grandfather call his grandmother E.T. because ever since she lost weight, her neck now looks quite long.


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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