The Kahului Airport was almost empty.

I waited at the baggage claim, seated on

the brick border that encircled the plant display. My mom and brother studied the arrival

sign, trying to determine if my grandmother would be coming from the left or right.

Mamy, as we called her, came to visit for two months out of the year. She lived in

Belgium, which is literally on the other side of the planet, but stayed a while to balance

out the lost time. A small crowd began walking from the hallway to the right, and in the

back was my grandmother. She looked the same as always, with short white hair and

thick square glasses with a gold brim. She wore a white collared shirt tucked into khaki

shorts that went down to her knee. Tied around her neck was a pink knit pullover. I ran

after my brother to give her a hug, feeling her pearl necklace dig into my skin as I

embraced her. As I pulled away, I inhaled her familiar scent of Tommy girl perfume.

My grandma, Mamy, and I had an interesting relationship. Growing up, I always had a

suspicion that she liked my brother better than me. She spent time listening to him

drone on about random things, such as space shuttles or airplanes. While the only

conversations we had seemed to be, "go put your plate away," or "your room is so

messy."

One day shortly after Easter, I was in the garden with my grandma, and she had

found an easter egg that was still hiding from the hunt we had a couple days ago. The

egg was bright yellow and covered in pink polka dots. When Mamy popped it open, a

dollar jumped out. Sweet, money, I thought, that's so much better than melted

chocolate. "If you're not going to keep it, could I have it?" I asked, trying to look as

sweet as possible. "I think I am going to keep this one for myself," she said with a bit of
smirk. I quickly accepted that I wouldn't be getting any richer that evening and went on

dancing around the yard.

Later that evening, I walked into my older brother's room holding a pile of his

clothes that I had separated from my own clean laundry. His room was painted two

shades of blue, split by a bright green line that curved along the walls. To the right of the

entrance sat a couple long wood planks, used as shelves to house his many figurines

and a few trophies. And to my surprise, on that shelf sat the bright yellow egg with pink

polka dots. "Where did you get that egg?" I asked nonchalantly, attempting to suppress

my suspicion. "Oh, Mamy gave it to me." He responded. "Hmm, that's nice," I replied,

lying through my teeth.

I ran to my mom's room and told her what I had discovered. "See, she doesn't

even like me," I stated. "She loves you, sweetheart, but you found so many more eggs

than your brother. She wanted to make it fair." my mother explained. But it was already

fair, I was faster and more observant than my brother, I earned all those eggs. The only

unfair thing was that my grandmother had favorites.

As years passed, my relationship with my grandmother remained the same. One

summer, when I was 13 years old, I went to visit my grandmother. And unfortunately for

me, during my visit, I stepped on a bee. My foot inflated like a balloon, and I was

immobile for an entire week. I had to rely on old crutches to get around. Late one

evening, my mom went out to dinner with old friends, leaving my brother and I with

Mami. We sat in one of the ancient rooms playing cards upstairs when Mamy called out

that dinner was ready. My brother ran downstairs as I crawled like a child behind him. I

scooted my butt down the old creaking stairs, slowly making my way to the kitchen. But
when I finally reached the bottom step, my grandmother yelled at me to stand up. "I

can't walk!" I tried to explain, confused by her absurd demand. "Well, if you don't walk

on both feet, you won't be getting dinner." She declared. How could she not understand

that I was actually in pain? Why didn't she see that I would never choose to be injured?

Feeling betrayed, tears began to gather behind my eyes as I turned and hopped up the

stairs on one foot, forfeiting dinner.

Despite our turbulent relationship, I had plenty of proof that my grandmother did,

in fact, love me. She would send me emails almost every week, even when I hadn't

responded in a while. Always ending with an 'I love you' or 'kisses.' Her actions also

spoke volumes; she would clean, drive us around, and cook delicious food. Before a

trip, Mamy would ask me what I desired from Belgium; the answer was always candy.

Unfortunately, by the time I realized her toughness reflected her expectations of

me, she was diagnosed with cancer. Suddenly, she wasn't well enough to fly to Maui,

and that summer, the pandemic halted our trip to Belgium. Our conversations multiplied,

I was careful not to miss a moment. Mamy noted how she couldn't wait to see us the

following summer and wishes to see how I've grown. I had no doubt that we would see

each other soon and that two years would be a drop in the bucket.

My trip to Belgium this year was much different than I anticipated. It wasn't the

joyful reunion that I had hoped it would be. Instead, it was a trip filled with sadness and

a Mamy-sized hole. Sometimes, I read through the old emails she sent me, usually

written in a mix of French and improper English. Her words bring life to her memory and

all the goodness that was in her heart. Now, I can look back on our strange dynamic
and laugh about how ridiculous some of it was. I just hope she's looking down and

laughing with me.

Feedback:

Hi Summer,

There are so many wonderful images in here, and you did a great job of making yourself into a

tangible character. There are a lot of powerful concrete details as well.

I think this sentence captures a lot of important info for the reader:

My grandma, Mamy, and I had an interesting relationship. Growing up, I always had a suspicion that

she liked my brother better than me. She spent time listening to him drone on about random things,

such as space shuttles or airplanes. While the only conversations we had seemed to be, "go put

your plate away," or "your room is so messy."

What I think you could develop more is the part of the story where you realize that you were either

wrong, or that you were misjudging her. I do sense in the draft that you feel loss and regret, but it

isn't so clear that you have gained insight. The last part of your essay feels just a bit rushed and isn't

as detailed as the first part. What kind of "delicious food" for example?

Your sentence skills are solid. Do look out for over-reliance on adverbs (Unfortunately, suddenly) in

that 8th paragraph.