Personal Narrative: Golden-Brown

As I walk in through the swinging glass door of my grandparents house, the instant smell of fresh white baked bread hits me. The sweet dough crisped to golden-brown is now in sight. I see it sitting there, on the smooth kitchen table to the left of where I just entered. I know that as soon as I say hello a piece of it will be offered to me. As I continue straight into the open living room I notice my gray-haired grandpa sitting comfortably in his cushioned lazy boy rocker. With every slow rock he makes there is a slight creak that overpowers the sound of the Twins game on their T.V. On the crest of the same rocker lies his favorite dog, Lucy. Her white and black, furry belly expands and compresses at the same rate of the slow rock. My grandma,
just fresh from cooking, slowly comes and greets me from the kitchen. She carries in her arms that slice of bread that I have been craving and it makes my mouth water. I turn around and make my way to the dining room table and over to her and take the oven warm bread. As I sink my teeth through the bread like a knife through butter. I glance over to the dynamic duo’s chair and notice that the smell of Lucy’s favorite treat has woken her up. She hops down from her throne and trots over to the scent, I peel off a little corner of bread and toss it in the air. Her front paws come off the wood floor as she swoops up in the air to get the snack. With a lick of her lips, she trots back to her chair knowing that she only gets one bite. I wander over to their L-shaped couch and gently fall into its sinking cushions, and am taken in by the surrounding pillows. As I fall asleep I know that at my grandparent’s house relaxation is everything.