We present to you the best essay on grandparents for students and children.
The essay on grandparents 1
My grandparents live in the village. They are my mother’s parents. They are both retired now, not working and resting. I like to visit them. They are not strict, they don’t swear and allow everything.
Grandpa is sick, he has bronchial asthma, so he walks through the woods and glades and collects medicinal plants. He has a special book. He takes it with him. Then he finely chops the plants, dries them, and puts them in special boxes. Every day he makes his own medicinal teas. And he laughs and says he is looking for a briefcase of money.
And my grandmother knits. She taught me to knit with needles and crochet, too. They have a German Singer foot sewing machine. Grandpa sews his pants with it, and he repairs and lubricates it himself. Also, he knows how to fix shoes, for example, heels.
My grandfather makes everyone laugh all the time. He says he found his grandmother out of the way, in the country. Her maiden name is “Zadorozhnaya.” She and my grandfather are from the same village.
When I asked him where I came from, my grandfather made up his story. He didn’t make up a stork and a cabbage but said he found me on a bridge near the canal. From this bridge, men catch fish. He even showed me the bridge. Then he brought me home to my grandmother. She said this baby had to be kept. Then when I went to school, I learned where babies come from, but I like this story better.
My grandfather taught me to read before I went to school. And I learned the multiplication table with him from special pictures, too. Grandpa and Grandma sang songs to me because I stuttered when I was little. The doctor said I should be taught to sing. My grandfather and grandmother were from Ukraine, near Kharkiv, so they sang many songs to me in Ukrainian.
My grandfather served in the army and in the navy. So, he continues to live by a strict military routine and my grandmother was accustomed to it. They have everything on a schedule. Grandpa gets up early in the morning, does his exercises, and sits down to breakfast. Then he goes out to gather his herbs. And Grandma does the chores. She’s a very good cook.
Grandpa always comes to lunch at 12:00 sharp. It’s a military habit. He likes to eat black bread, he says it’s good for the stomach. He always eats the first course – soup with meat, the second course, and compote, just as he was fed in the service.
I have never heard my grandparents swear in front of me. I love my grandparents. They love and spoil me, too.
The essay on grandparents 2
My grandparents are wonderful people. They live in another city, so I don’t see them very often. But we talk on the phone, and on vacations, I come to visit them.
All his life my grandfather worked as a general practitioner in a hospital. He is a well-known doctor in his town and enjoys great honor and respect. He is now retired, but people often call and come to him with their problems. He tries to help everyone. Grandpa misses his work, but his hobbies and hobbies take up all his free time.
Grandpa loves going to the woods and picking mushrooms and berries. He taught me a lot. Once we got lost in the woods, and Grandpa forgot his compass at home. Then he climbed the tallest tree, trying to determine which way we were going home. He can also tell where north is by the location of the moss on the trees. Grandpa knows all kinds of mushrooms and teaches me to distinguish the edible from the inedible.
In early July, we gather blueberries, wild strawberries in the woods with him, in late August it’s time for lingonberries.
My grandfather is also an avid fisherman, he wakes me up at five in the morning, and we go with him to the river to catch fish. Usually, in the morning, the fog is thick, but I patiently sit with my fishing rod and wait for the fish to start biting. One day we caught a huge pike. There was no limit to my joy.
My grandmother worked as a math teacher. When I was little, she taught me to read and count. My grandmother wanted to be a teacher since she was a little girl because her parents were also teachers. My grandmother’s father was a physics teacher, and my mother was a Russian language and literature teacher. My grandmother wanted to continue the dynasty of teachers. As a result of her work, she received the title “Distinguished Teacher of the Year.” She remembers all her students, and they love her and come to visit.
Grandma loves to embroider, crochet, and knit. There are many things in her house, carefully made by her hands. Grandma is also a very good cook. She participated in the “Best Pastry Chef of the Year” contest and won a prize in the “Audience Favorite” category.
Grandpa and Grandma met back in high school, they were in the same class. Grandma often let Grandpa copy off her math homework, because she was the best student in her class. Grandpa, on the other hand, was into biology and chemistry. So after graduating high school, he went to medical school.
My grandparents raised three children, one of them my father. They have four grandchildren and one granddaughter. I am proud of my grandparents.
The essay on grandparents 3
Over the years of my life, I have learned a lot, learned a lot, and felt a lot.
From the first minutes of my life, I felt my parents’ love, their care, and affection. Touching their tender hands, seeing their face, which regardless of the time of day radiated happiness and warmth, I understood the importance of these people in my life. I realized that they were the closest and dearest thing to me. I was looked at with tenderness and a smile, I was hugged and kissed, I was played with and just admired.
But from the first days, I felt the support of not only my parents. Grandparents were often around, and sometimes I saw them even more than my parents. At the beginning of my life journey, I was not well aware and understood what an important role these people would play in my life. How close in the spirit they would be to me. Though even then, in my soul, when I saw those bottomless eyes with light wrinkles, hair under gray, and freckled cheeks, something in excitement froze. Every day I trusted them with the most precious thing of all: my life and destiny.
Fifteen years had passed. The world around me had changed dramatically. The houses, trees, gardens, squares, and people around me were going away, or rather, were being carried away on the waves of the river of time to unknown lands. As the years passed, I changed, too: I grew, grew stronger, grew smarter, and inevitably grew older. But against all odds, one thing has remained and, I hope, will remain unchanged for years to come: the trust that I have in my grandparents. And I hope for reciprocity. I know that their words, their wishes, their smiles brighten me every day. They are priceless, but unfortunately not endless. Everything in the world has its end, and no matter how much we fear it, it will come. It is in my power to push it away and hide it far, far away so that everyone would forget about it. And I try and try my best to move the inevitable things out of the way. Drag it as far away as possible. Every day spent around me is important to me.
Finding the rare opportunity to be together, my grandmothers and I reminisce about my childhood. Though, rather, ours is one for three. After all, the elderly are like children: naive and trusting, loving everything around them and looking for care.
I remember my grandmother and I did everything together. With one grandmother I picked tomatoes at the dacha, only with a slight difference: the grandmother put them in a basket and I in my mouth. With the other, we made pasta together. Grandma tried to make me, as many have guessed, pasta for dinner. I, like a five-year-old hostess, made my own dinner: I slowly pulled some pasta out of a huge bottomless box and hid behind the kitchen doors as a scurrying, noiseless mouse. There, outside my grandmother’s domain and field of vision, on the radiator, stood a cup of boiling water from the faucet, into which I threw the macaroni that had been broken (as my grandmother had taught me) into four pieces. In the evening, my dad, who was tired after a hard day’s work, had two dishes to choose from: mine and Grandma’s. The choice was obvious, and the plate with my pasta was quickly, and not noticeably for me, was empty. I, happy and satisfied, ate grandma’s portion (so she wouldn’t get upset). My reward was an extra chocolate candy for the evening tea party.
That’s how they were, my grandfathers: silent on the outside, but deep and sensitive people on the inside. They coped with a lot, they survived a lot. And I hope we will, in our own time. But we have a very powerful weapon in our hands: the invaluable experience of our grandparents. They were able to do it, which means that we will be able to do it better, thanks in large part to them. Don’t forget and love that priceless gift that nature has created for us, that time has saved, and that can take away our lives at any moment. Love your grandparents.
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