Narrative Essay :: My Grandpa

"Hello," I stated as I hopped through the door to my grandparents shoes without even a knock. My grandma looked up from the book she was reading in her cozy corner chair, "Well, hello there" "Where is grandpa?" I asked as I leaned down to brush my lips across the soft wrinkled gall of my elderly grandma. "Whos there?" a familiar deep, rough voice sounded from the conterminous room. Smiling I skipped through the kitchen and into a long dimly well-lighted room filled with bookcases, couches, a dining room table and a grand piano. My grandpa, across the room, was surrounded by music stands and piles of tag music. His trusty violin was in angiotensin converting enzyme hand and the long woody bow with the horse hair strings, that I was always warned never to touch, was in the other. As I walked toward the figure across the room, I noticed his across-the-board head of snowy white hair glowing in the threatening room. Over his short stocky body hung a green bring down shirt and a fuzzy cardigan sweater. He wore slacks held up awkwardly by a belt allowing his small potbelly to hang everywhere it. His face hardly showed the years of worry and stress, but his white ungroomed eyebrows and growing second chin showed his old age. His smiling greeted me. As I drew close to him, his aging artillerys reached out and wrapped rough my body pulling me into a warm loving hug. As he released me from the hug, I said, "Grandpa, I learned a new song I want you to hear." I plopped down on the hard piano bench, and my fingers flowed everyplace the keys. My foot pumped the cold pedal, and the room was magically filled with tones, one after another slowly warming the room. Looking up at my grandfathers soft, blue eyes I saw him crack a smile and nod with encouragement. Soon his violin found its way to its familiar defect between my grandpas shoulder and his unshaven chin. He swayed slightly as his arm moved the bow across the strin gs of the violin producing a harmony to the melody I was performing. With a long last note, we both dropped our manpower to our sides allowing the music, which had just filled the room with its thick tone, to abruptly end. The room was leave in a dead silence, frozen for a brief breaker point of time, as we recovered from the intensity of the piece.