The Greatest Gift
1 I sliced the final sliver of red pepper and placed it on top of a large mound of fresh, vibrant vegetables. Grandma Jo would be proud of the assortment of colors in this meal; she often says the more colorful the dish, the healthier it is. I'd been thinking about Grandma Jo a lot lately. My son Anthony and I had recently moved from a small town to a much larger city where I had a new and more challenging job. Years ago, Grandma Jo had taught me the importance of hard work. This move to the city was evidence that I didn't forget what I'd learned from her.
2 My reminiscing was interrupted when I heard Anthony unlock the front door. Slamming the door shut, he strode into the kitchen, threw his backpack on the floor, surveyed the neat pile of ingredients, and shook his head.
3 “Mom, why do you spend so much time preparing dinner when there are convenient alternatives? You know, take-out, delivery, frozen meals; everybody's doing it.”
4 I laughed out loud as I recalled wondering the same thing about Grandma Jo. The woman doesn't know the meaning of the word convenient; at least she lives as if she doesn't. She makes everything from scratch—food, cleaning supplies, even toothpaste!
5 “Don't you like my cooking, Anthony?” I asked with a mock look of hurt on my face.
6 “Your cooking is great, Mom. But you work so hard—I just don't understand why you don't make things easier on yourself,” he answered, his tone revealing that he was genuinely worried. “You have your new job to worry about, and a new city to learn your way around.”
7 What Anthony had just said was as true for him as it was for me. He had to start at a new school in the middle of the year and he was learning his way around the city just as I was. Anthony never complained, but I worried about how hard relocating has been for him.
8 “Well, I can make a frozen pizza if you really want one. It is a perfectly fine substitute for one of Granny's famous casseroles,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
9 “Very funny,” Anthony responded, a smile spreading across his face. “As if I would pass on one of Granny's awesome recipes. I'll leave you to it. I have to go study for my math test tomorrow.”
10 “You mean you haven't found a convenient alternative to studying?” I jokingly called to his retreating figure.
11 “No, Mom, but if there is, I'll be the first to discover it,” Anthony shouted back.
12 I thought about our conversation as I worked, layering the vegetables, meat, rice, and cheese in the casserole dish the way Grandma Jo had taught me. Anthony was a good kid. He was a diligent student; his grades reflected that, but I wanted him to enjoy the process of learning. And I wanted him to understand the meaning behind the good grades, and the reason a person worked so hard. I know at his age, I didn't understand any of that at all. I never understood what it meant to feel pride in my work until my summer with Grandma Jo, and I began to wonder. How would Anthony feel about spending the summer on the farm with Grandma Jo? I had been about his age when I spent a summer with her, and it really changed my perspective on how I did things.
13 I recalled that June day when I showed up on Grandma Jo's dusty doorstep with my pretty pink suitcase. Grandma Jo lives on a large farm surrounded by other large farms. Grandma Jo didn't have a TV or even a microwave. Cooking without a microwave was a foreign concept to me, then. I wondered how Grandma Jo could survive, living so disconnected from “the real world.”
14 My first week on the farm, I just moped around and watched Grandma Jo work. While I sat on the front porch drinking iced tea, Grandma Jo got on a tractor and plowed a field. While I leafed through a magazine I had brought with me, Grandma Jo fed the chickens and gathered eggs to sell. While I wandered aimlessly around the farm, Grandma Jo fixed a barbed wire fence.
15 As miserable as I was, I was aware enough to be impressed by how strong and tireless she was. She woke up before the sun rose and moved across the farm while the sun moved across the sky. She didn't stop working until after dusk.
16 And each day, we ate the eggs she gathered that she didn't sell at the market. She made fresh salads from the greens out of her garden, proudly telling me about each different type of lettuce she grew, and that she never used chemical pesticides. Each night she made me try a new vegetable that she personally pulled from her garden. And the funny thing was, she always looked so pleased about what she had accomplished, even though she had to be tired!
A photo shows Grandma Jo working in her garden
17 On the sixth day of my visit, I was sitting on the front porch, feeling bored and missing my friends, when Grandma Jo came around the corner. She was pushing a wheelbarrow and whistling. Something about that moment tugged at me. I had been impressed by Grandma Jo's strength and work ethic over the past week, but what really captivated me in that moment was the realization that Grandma Jo didn't just work hard, she was happy doing so.
18 That night, for the first time since I'd arrived, I had an appetite, and not just for food. I wanted to learn how to find joy in work. I wanted to do something, anything with my own two hands. So I asked Grandma Jo if I could help her around the farm. I wanted to learn what made her so happy. That night I got my first lesson. I helped Grandma Jo prepare a casserole from scratch. That was the first thing I learned to create. In fact, it was the first of many things I learned to do “from the ground up,” as Grandma Jo puts it.
19 That summer, I listened intently to Grandma Jo's stories. She told me how Grandpa died soon after they started the farm. Grandma Jo was left to run the farm and her family by herself. Her only option was to learn how to do everything herself. She plowed fields and fixed fences. She got stronger and stronger. Her hands became callused and hard. And as she worked, she learned that there was joy in creating something with your own two hands.
20 Those hard and calloused hands built something lasting and worthwhile: a legacy she will proudly leave behind for those who come after her. But I sometimes think that Grandma Jo's greater legacy will be the lessons that she passed on to me and that I hope to pass on to Anthony. I might not have a farm and my hands don't get dirty or calloused working in an office, but, thanks to Grandma Jo, I have a better understanding of what can be achieved with hard work. And with that thought, I took my homemade casserole out of the oven, ready to talk to Anthony about the possibility of new summer plans.
What is the author's point of view in the passage?
third-person limited
first-person
third-person omniscient
second-person
1 answer
1 answer