A Night At Grandma's House
by Stephen Jordan
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A NIGHT AT GRANDMA’S HOUSE
The only sounds in the house were the ticking of the clock on the mantle, and the snoring of my oldest cousin Tommy. I lay wide-awake on the fold out couch bed in the living room of my Grandmother’s house, listening to the tick of that old clock. I was thinking about how loud it seemed at night, when all were at rest, and I never even notice it during the day.
My parents were asleep in the adjoining bedroom, and of course Grandma was in her room, next to the kitchen. I wondered how Grandma was that night, sleeping alone in her room. My Grandfather had been buried that day. Today I had found out what death really meant. It meant my Grandfather was gone forever, and I could never see him again. I thought about how bad I was feeling, and I am only eight. I could only imagine how my Grandmother felt. She had lived with him a whole lifetime!
Having seen enough of Tommy’s backside I rolled over to my right side for a while. I sat straight up, startled and frightened at the sight of a figure of a Man kneeling at my side of the bed. His hands were clasped together and his head was bowed as if he was praying. When he looked straight at me, my fears left, and I knew it was okay. He spoke not a word, and neither did I. We just looked at each other.
I watched him rise to his feet, and walk around the bottom end of the bed. He wore robes that draped from his body. He had long hair, a beard, and a worn face. He then proceeded to walk right through the closed door that lead to the room my parents were sleeping in. That is when I got out of bed and opened the door to my parents’ room to see if he was in there. I did not see him. He was gone. My parents still slept.
I closed the door and went back into the living room, and sat in my Grandfather’s favorite chair. I wasn’t quite sure who had paid me a visit. I thought it was God, but I guess it could have been Jesus. I definitely knew he was a good man. I felt it when he looked at me. He spoke without speaking, and I listened. That part I will always keep to myself.
While sitting in Grandpa’s chair, I was trying to decide if I was going to tell anyone about this. In the end, I decided not to. I figured no one would believe me. You know how adults can be. So, I just kept it to myself and sat there in my Grandfather’s favorite old chair, listening to that old clock on the mantle tick, until morning came.
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