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Slowly I walked towards the door of Mrs. Burnen's house. I, unlike the other children in my neighborhood, had walked the long stretch between Elm Street and Livingston Ave. many a time. In my hands I carried a heavy glass plate, filled with chocolate chip cookies. Early this morning I had awakened to the smell of these cookies. I ran down the stairs to see what that fabulous smell was. I was just in time to see my mother wrap the cookies in cellophane paper.

"Good morning, honey," she had said in her "can you do me a favor" voice. "Good morning, whatcha makin'," I replied, returning her tone of voice. "Cookies, for Mrs. Burnen, you know she is sick again" "Yes mother, I know. Who do you expect to bring those cookies to Mrs. Burnen mom?" I asked, although I already knew the answer. "Well, I was hoping you would be a dear and walk them over there for me, you know how much work I have to do," she said in a sweet voice that could get any man, even her 14 year old son, to do whatever she wanted. I agreed. I grabbed the plat e of cookies, wrapped perfectly, in blue cellophane, off of the counter and carried them out of the back door. I walked around to the front of the house and started towards Mrs. Burnen;s house. On any other day I just would have cut through my best friend, Jake's, lawn, but not today. Not while doing something for my mother. I had always been very loyal to my mother. My mother was a very kind and caring person. I never was disobedient with my mother. Any other kid I knew would have been reluctant to bring the cookies to Mrs. Burnen, but not me, I was happy to do it. Anything for my mother. Anything so that she wouldn't be sitting at the kitchen table biting her nails hoping Mrs. Burnen was okay. My mother loved Mrs. Burnen more than almost anything in the world, but she just couldn't stand to see her or hear her like that. Mrs. Burnen was dying, and my mother knew it. It hurt my mother so much to lose Mrs. Burnen. Many a night I would wake up to the sound of her sobbing into her pillow, I wanted to comfort her, but I didn't know how. I soon reached the large gray house that belonged to Mrs. Burnen. I walked carefully up the driveway, trying not to make the sound of my feet against the gravel too clear. I finally reached the big gray door. I picked up the big brass knocker and let it down hard on the door. The door creaked open and the little figure of Mrs. Wimbleson came into view. "Good morning," I said semi-loudly, hoping she would here me. "Good morning child, Mrs. Burnen is sleeping, you can leave whatever gifts you have brought on the kitchen table, I'll bring them to her when she wakes up," said Mrs. Wimbleson in her kind, quiet voice. "Allright. How is Mrs. Burnen today?" I asked "Doing better honey, doing better." "Allright. I have got to be home now, I'll come back soon, whenever I get the chance," I replied quite sure of myself. Mrs. Wimbleson said good-bye and I opened the big white door and left the big gray house on Elm Street. For all the kids in my neighborhood it was horrible news to know that Mrs. Burnen was still alive. To me knowing that I still had a grandmother brought me comfort.

Story Submitted by Olivia (12),

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