Something I just came up with off the top of my head. I'm sure its rough since I didn't edit it. Be kind.
"Charlie was a creature of habit. Every sunday for the past five years, he would come to the East Side Diner at 10:00am and order a plate of pancakes with maple syrup, two eggs and a cup of coffee. He never deviated from this routine in his tenure there because in his mind it would desecrate a very important memory.
When he was seven years old, Charlie would come out to Boston every summer to stay with his grandparents for two weeks while his parents went abroad for work. He always looked forward to spending time with his grandparents, especially his grandfather, because he was a genius. There term "genius" is used quite a bit by parents describing their children or as a relative term from someone who is not as smart as someone else, but in this case it was a proven fact. Charlie's grandfather, William, had received high marks on his aptitude tests and exams in high school and was college bound but HItler had other plans for his future. At the age of 18, Charlie's grandfather enlisted with the army and was shipped half way across the world, his coming of age, being the worst kind possible.
His grandfather served with distinction as an enlisted man in the army for two years. His career was ended when he was wounded at the Battle of the Bulge and transferred back to France and later to Washington D.C. where he recovered from shrapnel wounds in his back, a physical pain that would linger with him for the rest of his life. William returned home after his recovery to the east side of Boston where he picked up a job as a postal carrier at which he stayed with for forty-five years. It wasn't long until he found a woman, married and started to raise a family.
Charlie's curiosity always got the better of him and even though he was so young and didn't fully understand the stories his grandfather told him of a place half the world away, he still loved how his grandfather told the stories: with passion and nostalgia. Storytime always took place at the east side diner on sunday mornings because it was the time when they were alone. Charlie's grandmother knew how hard the war was on William and didn't like Charlie pestering him at home, so he reserved his questions for their sunday breakfast.
They went to that diner for seven straight summers, until Charlie grew up and entered high school. At which point his visits to see his grandparents were less and less, and his own future was taking priority in his mind. He graduated, attended college and started putting the pieces of his own life in place, until one day.
He had been sitting at work, a high-end law firm in New York City at the age of twenty-eight, when he received a phone call from his mother. This was odd for him because she rarely called him at work unless something had happened. A midst the sobs and the crying he found out that his grandfather had died in his sleep at the age of eighty-six. Charlie didn't say much while she told him, he sat there in his chair, a hand covering his mouth while he turned to stare at the window, letting the news sink in. After hanging up the phone he walked over to an end table in his office on which many photographs stood, he picked one up of him and his grandfather. They had visited a lake on that particular day, and his grandfather had hoisted him up and let him sit on his shoulders. He remembered that day...so long ago.
A week later he flew to Boston to attend the funeral. He couldn't believe the attendance for this event, it seemed as if cars were from everywhere to give honor to his grandfather, the sight drove him to tears. Charlie had to stand off in the distance, leaning against a tree for support so his immediate family didn't see him crying. In his head he said a prayer and goodbye. He couldn't bare walking past the coffin, it was too hard to say goodbye, too hard to say sorry for not being there as much at the end, sorry that the days of happy youth were gone for both of them.
Charlie flew back to New York after the funeral and the ecstasy that his life once held seemd to melt away to nothingness. It seemed as if everything that he had worked his life for was reduced to meaningless materialism. His grandfather had been a man of few earthly possessions. William had told him countless times "It's not what you own that people will talk about after you are gone, its what you did with the time you had on Earth that you will be remembered for." Those words rang true now more than ever.
He knew what he had to do at that moment, and so he transferred out of his cushy job at his high-paying job to a smaller office in Boston, not far from the diner he once ate at as a boy. Charlie focused more on doing pro-bono work and helping those that weren't fortunate enough to get it and as a testament to his grandfather's wise advice, he had that famous saying framed and adorned it on his wall. Everyday he looked at it as reminder to what he was doing and to the life of his grandfather.
And now here he was, sipping his coffee, staring at the window at the fall sunday morning. The wind blew and the leaves danced around an old man, holding the hand of a young boy. They approached the front door of the diner and strolled in, taking a booth on the opposite end of the establishment from him. Charlie couldn't help but stare and let his mind drift back to fonder times; times spent with his grandfather. The waitress came and set down his two plates of food, giving him a wink and a smile as she walked off. As he took his first bite he looked once again at the old man and his grandson, and realized that life comes full circle eventually.
Charlie finished his food and got up to go home. As he approached the front door he caught the eye of the little boy, and gave him a wink as he turned to exit the diner. The boy smiled back at him as Charlie put his coat on and walked outside into the cold autumn morning. As he made his way to his car he thought of the days to come when he would take his grandchild to the same diner as his grandfather did with him, letting one tradition flow from one generation into another."
"Charlie was a creature of habit. Every sunday for the past five years, he would come to the East Side Diner at 10:00am and order a plate of pancakes with maple syrup, two eggs and a cup of coffee. He never deviated from this routine in his tenure there because in his mind it would desecrate a very important memory.
When he was seven years old, Charlie would come out to Boston every summer to stay with his grandparents for two weeks while his parents went abroad for work. He always looked forward to spending time with his grandparents, especially his grandfather, because he was a genius. There term "genius" is used quite a bit by parents describing their children or as a relative term from someone who is not as smart as someone else, but in this case it was a proven fact. Charlie's grandfather, William, had received high marks on his aptitude tests and exams in high school and was college bound but HItler had other plans for his future. At the age of 18, Charlie's grandfather enlisted with the army and was shipped half way across the world, his coming of age, being the worst kind possible.
His grandfather served with distinction as an enlisted man in the army for two years. His career was ended when he was wounded at the Battle of the Bulge and transferred back to France and later to Washington D.C. where he recovered from shrapnel wounds in his back, a physical pain that would linger with him for the rest of his life. William returned home after his recovery to the east side of Boston where he picked up a job as a postal carrier at which he stayed with for forty-five years. It wasn't long until he found a woman, married and started to raise a family.
Charlie's curiosity always got the better of him and even though he was so young and didn't fully understand the stories his grandfather told him of a place half the world away, he still loved how his grandfather told the stories: with passion and nostalgia. Storytime always took place at the east side diner on sunday mornings because it was the time when they were alone. Charlie's grandmother knew how hard the war was on William and didn't like Charlie pestering him at home, so he reserved his questions for their sunday breakfast.
They went to that diner for seven straight summers, until Charlie grew up and entered high school. At which point his visits to see his grandparents were less and less, and his own future was taking priority in his mind. He graduated, attended college and started putting the pieces of his own life in place, until one day.
He had been sitting at work, a high-end law firm in New York City at the age of twenty-eight, when he received a phone call from his mother. This was odd for him because she rarely called him at work unless something had happened. A midst the sobs and the crying he found out that his grandfather had died in his sleep at the age of eighty-six. Charlie didn't say much while she told him, he sat there in his chair, a hand covering his mouth while he turned to stare at the window, letting the news sink in. After hanging up the phone he walked over to an end table in his office on which many photographs stood, he picked one up of him and his grandfather. They had visited a lake on that particular day, and his grandfather had hoisted him up and let him sit on his shoulders. He remembered that day...so long ago.
A week later he flew to Boston to attend the funeral. He couldn't believe the attendance for this event, it seemed as if cars were from everywhere to give honor to his grandfather, the sight drove him to tears. Charlie had to stand off in the distance, leaning against a tree for support so his immediate family didn't see him crying. In his head he said a prayer and goodbye. He couldn't bare walking past the coffin, it was too hard to say goodbye, too hard to say sorry for not being there as much at the end, sorry that the days of happy youth were gone for both of them.
Charlie flew back to New York after the funeral and the ecstasy that his life once held seemd to melt away to nothingness. It seemed as if everything that he had worked his life for was reduced to meaningless materialism. His grandfather had been a man of few earthly possessions. William had told him countless times "It's not what you own that people will talk about after you are gone, its what you did with the time you had on Earth that you will be remembered for." Those words rang true now more than ever.
He knew what he had to do at that moment, and so he transferred out of his cushy job at his high-paying job to a smaller office in Boston, not far from the diner he once ate at as a boy. Charlie focused more on doing pro-bono work and helping those that weren't fortunate enough to get it and as a testament to his grandfather's wise advice, he had that famous saying framed and adorned it on his wall. Everyday he looked at it as reminder to what he was doing and to the life of his grandfather.
And now here he was, sipping his coffee, staring at the window at the fall sunday morning. The wind blew and the leaves danced around an old man, holding the hand of a young boy. They approached the front door of the diner and strolled in, taking a booth on the opposite end of the establishment from him. Charlie couldn't help but stare and let his mind drift back to fonder times; times spent with his grandfather. The waitress came and set down his two plates of food, giving him a wink and a smile as she walked off. As he took his first bite he looked once again at the old man and his grandson, and realized that life comes full circle eventually.
Charlie finished his food and got up to go home. As he approached the front door he caught the eye of the little boy, and gave him a wink as he turned to exit the diner. The boy smiled back at him as Charlie put his coat on and walked outside into the cold autumn morning. As he made his way to his car he thought of the days to come when he would take his grandchild to the same diner as his grandfather did with him, letting one tradition flow from one generation into another."
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
fabrizia:
You brought a little tear to my eye! In a good way, though.. nice job!
satire_:
Beautiful
