Short Story: Family

The weekends were always a source of fun and intrigue when I was younger. My cousins and I would usually stay the night at our grandmother’s apartment, we always loved her cooking, and the only way we could guarantee that we would eat some was to stay the night. Whenever grandma would cook it was an event. There were family members that we never knew existed coming to get some of her cooking. My favorite thing that she would cook was anything southern, I did not care what it was I just knew that it would be good.

Grandma lived in a one-bedroom apartment, it had almost everything that anyone would need and more. There things that she collected throughout her life, from stuff animals (that were mine) to at least five Nativity of Jesus sets spread out over her the living room. There was one thing everybody knew when you came to grandma house it was unspoken but spoken, and that was DO NOT SIT ON THE FUNTI URE! If anybody wanted to sit, they had to use what we call lawn chairs, she had them scattered all over the house. Most of her neighbors were senior citizens like her, but on occasion were a few younger people living in the apartment complex also. Our grand- mother had a rough life growing up, her father was abusive, and her mother died in a car wreck when she was younger. The one thing that was guaranteed when you see grandma was that she would be wearing a skirt.

Grandma was proud of one thing in her life and that was her kids, thought they never listen to her she was always proud of them. When my aunts and uncles were younger, they never liked to listen to anything that she

had to say. As time went on, they learn that she was right about almost everything.

When we would stay the night at grandma’s house, on occasion one of our aunts Pig or Jean would stay also. Nobody really got along with Pig, she was mean, and we all thought that she was crazy. For me, she is my favorite aunt to be around. Every time we would see her there was always something wrong with her.

It seemed that the weekends that we stayed down there something would happen. It could be an entertaining game of spades or domino’s, to a big blow out between our aunts. We always had a great time down there.

When everybody got done eating whatever grandma had cook, it was time for us to clean up. Nobody liked to do it, but since she cooked, we had to do it. When we got done cleaning the kitchen, we would all head out to the front porch and sit, or some of us would walk to the end of the driveway. The conversations that we would have were always entertaining, from a playful conversation about who was dating who, to having a serious conversation about the bible.

Me and my cousins would sit and watch in amazement at how quickly things would change between

them. When this would happen some of us knew not to say anything, but there were a couple cousins that would have to chime in. Then everybody would attack their parents for not raising them right.

Out of all of grandma’s kids, my mother is the only one that went to college degree. When our aunts would argue they were always filled with passion with everything they would say. Some of their biggest arguments were about the bible, they all had their own opinions and they were all right.

When they would get done arguing each one will start leaving one by one, and they would ask are we sure

we are staying and we would say yes. After they all left except Pig and Jean, we would try to find something to do. What we normally would do is seen one of grandma’s neighbors to the store for us to buy alcohol. Every time we would ask, he would do it.

The nights were the most fun, after grandma has gone to bed we would sit outside on the porch, and she always hated that. Grandma was always afraid that something bad was going to happen to us, but nothing ever did. While sitting out on the porch, we would see everything. The late-night shenanigans of her neighbors were always entertaining.

It was never the young neighbors that were entertaining, it was always the older ones. The things that we saw shall never be repeated ever again. That was the best part about staying down grandma’s house was watching the neighbors. We saw so much that it is hard to believe that those things happen.

Ever since grandma died things have not been the same. We hardly ever see each other now, but when we do it is like old times. Family is something that we will always be, but friends are what we became.


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