Personal Narrative: My Pap

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We pull into the driveway of my great Granny Bright’s rural North Caroline farm house. We jump from the car and run up the curvy sidewalk, past the concrete frog lawn ornament. As we climb the stairs, we see the green Astroturf on the porch. The sound of the squeaky screen door echo’s loud in our ears. There stands Granny Bright saying, “I thought you would never get here!” Then we smell it: homemade biscuits, fried chicken, fresh silver- queen corn. She asks “Are ya’ll hungry?” We run in the bathroom and wash our hands with the familiar bar of white Ivory soap. We head into the kitchen with the brown vinyl tile floor. Everyone crowds around the long oval table and joins hands for grace. As soon as my Pap finishes with the blessing,

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