Scrapbook Insecurities | Teen Ink

Scrapbook Insecurities

August 5, 2010
By Katie_Grey DIAMOND, Leipsic, Ohio
Katie_Grey DIAMOND, Leipsic, Ohio
58 articles 10 photos 46 comments

Favorite Quote:
Difficult is not impossible - Relient K, &quot;Hope for Every Fallen Man&quot;<br /> <br /> <br /> If all I had was love, would I still be lovely?<br /> If all I gave was love, would you give up on me?<br /> -House of Heroes, &quot;Love is for the Middle Class&quot;


I love my Grandpa's nose
so straight and handsome;with a point, just like mine
And also like me, it wrinkles up when he puffs his cheeks,
just so I can hear the breath blow out.
I miss my Grandma's eyes,the ones I barely knew.
The soft,warm essence that makes a kid feel cozy inside
just like hot chocolate.

I love my Grandpa's brows
still dark and thick
burrowing together as he tells me the story of that scar on his elbow
while I sit fascinated by the purple heart in my hand.
I miss my Grandma's smile,
the one that warmed her eyes,
the one that held the family together
when she brought out a lemon meringue pie
on the front porch,where the hummingbirds danced.
I love my Grandpa's laugh
so strong and deep,
as we trek through the garden to go see the beagles,
Shiloh, she is my favorite.
I miss my Grandma's voice lulling with rhythm
as she told us of Max the doberman;
her favorite rocking chair marking the tempo-
empty now, along with Grandpa's stories,
laughter and blackjack skills, once played over a silly thing like
quarters and penny candies.
Empty, like the house with the chewing gum,
and the garden with the beagles,
and the makeshift baseball field
that housed a broken down bus.

Grandpa left it there holding my memories,
like a faded scrapbook.

I left it there when I was
too afraid to tell Grandma goodbye.


The author's comments:
I wrote this after I found out my Grandpa moved out of his house after my Grandma died. She died when I was seven. I hid behind a couch and when she wanted me to come say goodbye I said no because I had this stupid fear that I would get sick. That house meant a lot to me...but it was never the same after she was gone.

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This article has 1 comment.


on Jul. 30 2011 at 2:48 pm
collegegirladventures GOLD, Mequon, Wisconsin
10 articles 8 photos 307 comments

Favorite Quote:
A poet&#039;s work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep.<br /> <br /> ~Salman Rushdie

so sorry about ur grandmas death...have you fully recovered from it>?