Composition about my grandmother

Composition about my grandmother

Who is better than a caring grandmother who knows how to bake pies and tell interesting tales? Who better than a loving grandmother will be able to comfort a crying grandson, pressing him to his warm and cozy side? Who is better than a wise grandmother who will guide the true little man who has strayed from him? The unpretentious composition about the grandmother reveals the beauty of the soul of this very native person.

Only the first, the sunbeam, breaking through the crack in the curtain, slid over my cheek as I caught the sweet smell of vanilla and cinnamon floating from a small kitchen. So it is – my beloved grandmother has already baked delicious, crispy buns and cooked hot cocoa.

I run to wash and have breakfast immediately, so as not to be late for school. The

ruddy, grandmother’s face is illuminated by boundless love and kindness, when I embrace her by the neck and smack her into the hot cheek.

While she is busy at the hot plate, I look at my slender, with swollen joints, grandmother’s hands. who tirelessly flutter over plates and cups, filling them with a delicious and hearty breakfast. Finally, we sit opposite each other and, enjoying vanilla pastries, chatter about nothing, and this gives us tremendous pleasure.

For a day my grandmother has time to remake a whole bunch of work: clean, wash and cook dinner. To my arrival from school, she is already sitting in a rocking chair with my unfastened scarf. I quietly look into the cozy room and see that my grandmother is dozing, with her head tilted to one side and her knitting hands on her knees. A large tangle of threads rolled under the armchair, where our fidgety kitten fidgets with him. I try not to make noise, but as soon as I lift up my disheveled tangle, my grandmother recaptures herself, smiles happily and drags me to dinner.

My grandmother knows an incredible variety of different stories, similar to were and stories. In the evenings, when the bad weather rages outside the window, we sit by the fireplace, covered with a woolen blanket, and I dreamily wander in grandmother’s tales for her smooth, melodic speech and cozy flickering of the flames in the fireplace.


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Composition about my grandmother