Chasing Grasshoppers

January 12, 2012
By Kaitlin Campbell BRONZE, Colubus, Montana
Kaitlin Campbell BRONZE, Colubus, Montana
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine...” I held tightly onto my grandpa’s hand as we slowly walked towards the tall dry grass. My hair, blonde and curly, bobbed along as I skipped to him singing in his deep masculine voice. The soft sound of the Rosebud Creek ran in the background and the distant chirp of the robins in the early dawn filled the morning air.

As we got closer and closer to the grass I could see the grasshoppers going crazy. It’s like they knew we were coming to fill a jar full of them to bait our hooks. I was getting excited and nervous at the same time. I ran through the grass laughing as the grasshoppers flew up in front of me while I herded them towards my grandpa. When we finally got one we could catch he held my hand in his .

“Papa, I'm too little to touch that big bug!”

“You aren’t too little. You’re a big girl. Here I’ll help you!”

He gently tightened his grip as he placed my hand on top of the enormous grasshopper. I felt on top of the world as he brought my little hand up to place it in the jar.

“Oh, this is easy, Papa! Watch me get one by myself.”

I rushed around grabbing each and every grasshopper that came into sight, as my grandpa watched with bright eyes. You could tell by the smile on his face that he was in love, the little girl that he once held in his arms for the first time was growing up. He constantly stared down at me and the glowing smile that was always on my face.

Once the two of us had filled the jar we were off to catch some fish. We walked side by side, and hand in hand. He told me stories about the good ol’ days while I gazed up in awe about all the stories of his mom and dad, and brothers and sister.

“When I was a boy we had a river just like this one by our house. We'd drive Dad’s work truck right into it and give it a good wash right there in the river.”

“There were trucks when you were a little boy papa?”

“Well of course there were. How old do you think I am?”

“100!” I said while laughing aloud.

“100 years old!” He gasped, smiling from ear to ear.

“Were things just black and white when you were little?”

“No, no Katybug. That’s only on TV that you see black and white. We had pretty, colorful flowers and leaves when I was little too.”

I thought to myself for a bit about what life might have been like back when my old papa was a boy. I wondered about their toys and their clothes, but most of all I wondered about what my papa looked like. I wondered if he still wore the same buckskin cowboy hat that I never saw him leave the house without.

Thoughts of what I would be like when I was 100 years old flashed through my brain. Would I be as cool and my grandpa was? Would I have 14 grandkids just like him? Would I love each and everyone of them with my entire heart? Would they look up at me with smiles on their face just like I did with my grandpa?

“Papa, when I get older I want to be just like you!”

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