FREE ESSAY ON NAIVE ME

NAIVE ME

New York was washing by the tropical storm last Friday; it seemed to clean out each inch
of dirt at every corner of the city. The chilly wind was blowing outside; I could see the
trees dancing in front of my window. I was at home. I should thank the storm for a
day-off so I could do some housework. I found a photograph album under my bed, when I was
cleaning the house. It was a pretty old one. I opened it; laugh was all I could do at
that moment. That was because I saw a picture of mine, which was taken ten years ago. In
the picture, my cousins and I were standing together laughing and hugging; we were
joyful. I was about nine then dressed in a very unfashionable way. The picture brought
back many memories of myself: the cheerful me, the unhappy me, the curious me, the naive
me. 
I started to look at the photos one by one. When I turned to one page, I saw a picture of
my grandfather and me. In the picture, my grandfather was sitting in the easy chair
comfortably; I was sitting on my grandfather's knee, both smiling. As I looked closer, I
realized that grandfather's smile was a little bit sickly. In my indistinct memory, I
couldn't find any images that indicate my grandfather was unhealthy. What I remembered
was his smile, and how much care he had for me. We lived in a village close to the city
name-Goung Zhou back in China. Every evening, Grandfather liked to take a walk after
supper. Usually he would bring me with him. Grandfather would tell me a story as we
walking along a small stream. He and I would stay at the lawn at the end of the stream
and watch the sun goes home. The sunsets were beautiful; I couldn't remember when we
stopped doing that. Was it after my parents moved to the city?
I still remember the first time I saw my mother cry. I was sleeping but then I woke up by
a drop of tear on my face. I opened my eyes, and saw my mom weeping beside my bed. I was
scared, confused, and upset. I had never seen her cry; and curious about why was she
crying. Each time I went over to my grandfather's house I was wondering about where my
grandfather was. Grandma never told me why grandfather had left us; she only told me that
grandfather had gone to a very long trip. He had traveled to a far place that we couldn't
reach. I believed it, and I asked my grandma if I could write to grandpa. She didn't
answer my question and turned around. I saw her shoulder shaking. I miss my grandfather's
story. I miss the sunsets we had watched together. I miss my grandfather's smile; and I
miss him. 
The storm didn't effect my mood of cherishing my past. I suppose that a person would
always have some apprehension at a rainy day. I slowly closed the photo album and put it
on the shelve. I was upset that I have grown up. I have to face the pain of losing a
family member. I wish I could be that nine year-old boy again. So I could have all kind
of fantasy to deal with such great lost.