Grandma Velda-Personal Narrative

On one chilly night in Las Vegas, my brother and I had just landed and got off our plane to see our dad. I remember walking off the plane and back into the airport terminal and hearing the soft and sweet sounds of christmas carollers surround me. Their voices seemed to follow us as we walked back to the parking garage to head home. It was a short distance but a long drive due to the hectic city traffic. I don’t remember much of the drive because I had slept most of the way home. Finally, we arrived at the house and we greeted the rest of our family. I walked in the front door to see me little brother Garrett, my stepmom Jolene, and my Grandma Velda. I immediately recognized the smell of fresh christmas cookies sitting on the counter. It was almost as if I could smell each ingredient, the sugar, the flour, and even the powdered sugar on top
Mornings are not my favorite thing, but I wasn’t going to waste anytime because I was eager to open our presents. I ran down stairs, almost tripping over our cats that lay at the top of the stairs. I slid around the corner in my fuzzy socks. My family was patiently sitting on the couch waiting for me. The smell of warm coffee and hot chocolate floated around the room and gently blew by my nose. The fireplace was going and all you could hear was the little chats in between my family and the crackling of the burning wood. I noticed a burning smell but it wasn’t from the fire. My dad quickly remembered that he had cookies in the oven. I ran to the oven and, without thinking, opened the door and grabbed the searing hot sheet of cookies. Immediately realizing what I had done I dropped the cookies and a loud crash made everyone cover their ears. The black cookies were spread out across the floor and the pan was still bouncing around. We cleaned up the mess and decided to go without cookies this morning. My family headed to the living room to unwrap our