The Anniversary Party :: Personal Narrative Writing

The Anniversary Party By 1947, my granddad had come back from World War II and wedded a French young lady he had met while setting off for college at Emory University in Atlanta. This was my grandma. He takes a gander at her occasionally in their kitchen when we are down to visit and uproariously claims to have known from the second he saw her that she would be the lady he'd wed. My grandma Geva, short for the exquisite Genevieve, grins and shakes her head and takes a coconut cake into the other room while she recalls the hot day in Georgia when she lost her French name - Bertat. Bertat, Bertat. That name - extraordinarily delightful, with the little lilt toward the end lifting it up. She became Mrs. Alexander and afterward fusing the name when they began the ALEXANDER'S OFFICE SUPPLIES stores in Milledgeville, Macon, and Dublin, Georgia, where they live. What's more, she puts the coconut cake down where it goes, where it will sit to be snacked at in the midst of fatigue by the men she made it for, and sh e thinks on where she is currently - fifty years she's been hitched to him. Their stores are each of the three going solid, and she is as yet working at the Dublin branch each day, including today, her 50th wedding commemoration. She is still as sharp as the ten thousand tacks she requested for Macon toward the beginning of today. We are down to visit and to praise this commemoration, this genuinely astounding achievement of my grandparents. Their marriage has been loaded with affection, and today their home is brimming with kids and grandkids. I am the most seasoned and quite a while in the past was named #1 Grandson by my granddad. My cousin Chris, a year more youthful than me, is #2, my more youthful sibling is #3, and Chris' sibling Scott is #4. It's not really an inventive marking framework, yet it functions admirably when shouted from over the house on the off chance that one of the pooches is pestering him or on the off chance that anybody goes to the entryway. Chris has had a hard life and has made the lives of people around him hard also. He isn't in Dublin at the present time - he is in South Carolina at a military school, yet he most likely won't remain there long. He was kicked out of one school for breaking into their PC framework and meddling with their records. He is genuinely a virtuoso with anything mechanical or innovative, the specific inverse of me and my sibling, who surrender like the snobby city-young men we are when Chris discusses dismantling hard drives or fixing vehicles.