As my summer vacation drew nearer and nearer, I made a long list of things I wished to do. However, my room told me that I had to live with my grandfather for six weeks. A voice inside me said that it would be bad to live with my grandpa, which meant no afternoon baseball games with my neighborhood friends.
The first week with Grandpa was fine. One day, Grandpa was sitting at the table reading the newspaper. I sat on the chair and looked through my baseball card collection. "Wish I had a Hank Aaron card." I said to myself.
When Grandpa heard me, he said in surprise, "I didn't know you liked baseball, Susan." I explained that it was my favorite sport and I usually played it all summer with my friends. Grandpa stood up quietly and walked to the door. "Let's go," he said, with excitement.
We drove for quite a while, and when Grandpa finally stopped the car, we were in front of some old houses. I noticed that Grandpa had a faraway look in his eyes. "I haven't been here for twenty or thirty years," Grandpa said.
"That's the field where I used to play baseball every summer." Then I realized where we were: This was the house where Grandpa grew up!
On the ride home, Grandpa was very quiet. I thought about how he must miss his old home and the friends he grew up with. Then I realized that six weeks away from home was not bad, especially with Grandpa around.
