My Grampa

I skipped out the back door across the crunchy gravel to the big red barn. There was a hay wagon parked in front of the barn which was to prove my lifesaver.

I was half way across when I heard him coming. I didn’t have to look. I ran as I never had on my eight-year-old legs.

I hit the wheel of that wagon and flew over the top as King hit the side. King was Grampa’s plow horse and the meanest animal alive. Grampa put up with him because he was such a good plow horse.

At that moment I saw the back door explode as Grampa came roaring through it with dad right behind yelling at him.

“Now, pa. Stop. You need him, pa. Stop. She is ok. Pa, stop.”

I was terrified. I didn’t know this grampa. His face was twisted and he was running like an Olympic runner. On his way, he picked up a 2 by 4 with Dad right behind him.

Now King was mean but he wasn’t stupid. He was running like a race horse and when he got to the alpha fence, he jumped it. A plow horse!

At that moment, Dad reached Grampa and grabbed him, saying, “Pa, stop. She is ok. You need him.”

Grampa’s face returned to normal as Dad took away the 2 by 4. I collapsed into the bed of the wagon realizing I had been more afraid of Grampa than King!

Elain Held is a member of the writing class offered through the Cerritos College Adult Education Program. It is held off-campus at the Norwalk Senior Center.