Visit 2 you my my grandparents house in village in 300 words
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In May of 2007 after attending my sister’s high school graduation I left to spend a month of summer vacation with my grandparents. I wasn’t sure about the trip because while I liked them a lot I’d never spent much time alone with them. I packed everything I could think of to keep me entertained on the long trip from Florida to Oklahoma.
Though hard as it is to believe I had so much fun on their motor home. Granted most of the time I was sleeping, reading, or listening to music. Those things can only hold your attention for so long so in those periods of boredom I would talk with my grandma.
She told the funny stories involving my mom as a little kid that sounded more like the trouble I would get myself into rather than anything she would have done. Tales of other relatives that had done some strange or suspicious things, thing such as one’s husband mysteriously dying or fishing trips that didn’t include fishing. I’d never heard most of this because my mother has a bad memory.
We even laughed at the things she remembered me doing when I was little. Like blowing the surprise for my dad by asking mom where the necklace dad had bought her was.On our way to Oklahoma we stopped in Little Rock Arkansas to see the Bill Clinton Presidential library and Museum. The place was made mostly of glass so it had an amazing futuristic look to it.
It held everything from Clinton’s life story to what was taking place in America during his time in office and what affect he had on it. Also shining light on Hilary Clinton’s active role at her husband’s side.When we reached their house it was great. It was kind of like living with a really nice version of your parents.
Grandma was constantly worrying if I had enough to eat and if my cloths needed to be washed. I told not to worry about me that I was fine but she wouldn’t believe me. While I was there I also meet her brother Sid.
I’m told the only other time I’d seen him was when I was first born. He was great; I liked him a lot, probably because as grandma said I’m just like him.After being there for two weeks we again loaded up the motor home and headed up to Oklahoma City. We went to the Oklahoma City National Memorial and Museum.
Before then all I really knew about that day was that some had blown up something in Oklahoma. Though now after seeing the museum and hearing my grandma’s account of that day I know all the details. The memorial was beautiful and simple, which I liked a kind of ‘less is more’ approach.