this is a piece of writing about my grandma,
I am strugling with the structure and flow so any editing/assistance would be much appreciated.
Here is the brief
You will write a description about a person you know well. Before beginning your own writing you will read several descriptions and explore features of this genre which you could then incorporate into your own description.
Your description will highlight how you have structured your writing and selected details effectively which 'reveal rather than tell' about your subject and your attitude towards them.
You will be assessed on
- how well you express and develop your ideas about your subject
- your ability to craft your description and to select details carefully
- how well you structure your writing
- your accuracy in spelling, punctuation and paragraphing.
"Brrriiinggggg!" The doorbell jolts me out of my seat, a long, deafening tone. I sigh, even though Grandma has her own key she still pushes her signature ring, sending Callum running for the door.
"Hi Grandma" she ambles down to the lounge, the protracted scuffling of her feet echoing down the hall. Hunched over, leaning vulnerably on her cane, an unseen burden upon her back. No longer does she tower over me; she is stooped, slowly shrinking. Yet she still carried that same hidden dignity, her zestful presence that speaks "I've still got it"
. Her eyes scan the table searching the piles for the paper. Reading. Her love. She eases into her chair. With each passing day her body ages her mind ceases to follow, expanding, and acquiring new knowledge, remaining youthful
Every so often she glanced at her watch before eyes darted up towards the kitchen, more frequently with each passing minute. 6:03, 6:20, 6:38pm
At the table hands, gnarly and calloused rub against mine as we give thanks, they are rough like bark from a lifetime in the garden. Every last drop of gravy is scarped onto the knife and licked with delectable satisfaction. Habits of a long ago time, a war time, a poverty time still engraved on her mind. The meal always finished with "lovely roast meat" even if it wasn't
Her face reads a road map of age, every wrinkle embed with a memory. 93 years of both hardness and happiness. A rich extraordinary life.
Still, her eyes sparkle; milky blue stars lost behind thick blemished lenses. I am reminded of years ago when those same eyes search for me in endless games of hide and seek. Or when, early in the morning, I crept into her bed to hear stories of piglet and pooh as I am enveloped by her same musty smell.
Still her mouth bears that same shy smile, thin lips hiding yellow teeth, blemished from toffee and tea, which she now gulps back so quickly it is a wonder she doesn't scald her throat.
Reaching for her handbag, a polite signal is given, yet we all know what it means- take me home.
As she ambles back down the hallway I think how she has aged, but I know there are something time will not change, she will always be my grandma, youthful in spirit