Descriptive Essay

Descriptive Portrait My Grandmother When I picture my grannie, I envision shiny grey hair, bright lively eyes, and the softest hands I have every felt. She is 94 years oldish and has 12 children. Virginia Irene Dill has raised many children, and that makes her the strongest person I know. When I walk through the door of her 75 year old home, I think of all the pain and joy my grandmother went through there. aft(prenominal) so many years, our time together was not quite the selfsame(prenominal) as it used to be since ten years ago when she started to release ill due to old age.Despite the fact that her body does not allow her to do as much as she used to, I still remember her and the times we had together. Listening to the wonders of the world and the changes that have occurred, I have enjoyed hearing her stories. I enjoy most learning just about my aunts and uncles crazy past. Our time together is special and the bond we hold is sacred. She holds the cite to my hi tosh and is an example that a little hard work and a whole lot of patience is needed to make it in life. My grandmothers small soft hands always surprise me.When I think of all the hard work that she had done including cooking, cleaning, and taking accusation of all her children, I cannot believe her hands could be kept so soft and manicured. She always wears a ring that my father bought her and she always tells me the story of when she received the ring The bright, shiny, silver ring holds an outer ring with spring black beads surrounded by sharp red beads, circled below with a turquoise stone, and pearly speckles. As I stand neighboring to her, I smack like a giant. She is only five feet overblown and is such a small, sweet lady.When I hug her, I feel safe and warm inside. While with her, I feel happy that she is a part of me She is a strong, sweet, and patient woman, and knowing this, it makes me happy to know that I have the potential to be like her. Her and I sit in her living next t o the warm wood stove and have tenacious talks about the past. We talk about my father and my grandfather, whom I never had the chance to meet. I always enjoy learning about my past, moreover the stories about my aunts and uncles and the mischievous things they did were always exciting to me.These stories always made me jest like a young child when I hear them. right away ill due to old age, her face looks different. She is ghostly pale and take root as a cold winter breeze. I miss her grinning and touch. Her hands and body are not as strong as they used to be, and most of the time, she looks tired. The smell of her oatmeal cookies no longer fills the board when I go to her house. The smell of fresh lotion scent has diminished, further most of all, I miss the long talks and warm hugs. I will always remember my grandmother and the impression she has made in my life.