Essay 2 The Empty Chair
The Empty Chair My life changed forever when I walked past that empty chair. The chair that held the memories, the love, and the care I once knew. As I walked past what was now nothing I felt the chills creep down my spine, my eyes fill to the brim with tears, and my heart crumble under the pressure of the pain. It’s hard to describe such a wonderful person in words, because my grandmother was a lot of things to me. She was a hit I tell ya, being one of the most beautiful, caring, and intelligent people I’ve ever met. I owe a lot of who I am and who I will be because of her, she made a huge impact in my life.
Back when I was in elementary school my parents went through a horrible divorce. I essentially lost my mother as my dad packed her bags and sent her on her way. With my dad working the night shifts at the post office, and me being too young to stay home alone, I was terrified about what was going to happen next. The questions continuously swirled through my jumbled mind; where was I supposed to go? Who was going to take care of me when my dad was gone? Were we going to have to move? All the questions came to a stop when my grandmother stepped in and invited me into her home, and that’s where the story begins.
It wasn’t difficult to adapt to the new routine in my life. Every day after school I would take the bus over to my grandmother’s house, I’d do my homework, go on random adventures before super, and after eating I would go to bed. Being around my grandmother all the time felt natural and comfortable, like I was supposed to be there. One of the memories that I can look back and smile on were the hours me and my grandma spent rock hunting. We would go up in the hills far away from city limits and start hunting. We picked up all different kinds of rocks; big, small, or just funny shaped. When we found a rock of our interest we would put it inside of a big cloth bag that we would later go through while trying to explain why it caught our eye in the
Back when I was in elementary school my parents went through a horrible divorce. I essentially lost my mother as my dad packed her bags and sent her on her way. With my dad working the night shifts at the post office, and me being too young to stay home alone, I was terrified about what was going to happen next. The questions continuously swirled through my jumbled mind; where was I supposed to go? Who was going to take care of me when my dad was gone? Were we going to have to move? All the questions came to a stop when my grandmother stepped in and invited me into her home, and that’s where the story begins.
It wasn’t difficult to adapt to the new routine in my life. Every day after school I would take the bus over to my grandmother’s house, I’d do my homework, go on random adventures before super, and after eating I would go to bed. Being around my grandmother all the time felt natural and comfortable, like I was supposed to be there. One of the memories that I can look back and smile on were the hours me and my grandma spent rock hunting. We would go up in the hills far away from city limits and start hunting. We picked up all different kinds of rocks; big, small, or just funny shaped. When we found a rock of our interest we would put it inside of a big cloth bag that we would later go through while trying to explain why it caught our eye in the