My sister: "Are you starting, like, blog #10?"

Me: "Uh...yeah."

Hi friends! I started blog #10. (Actually, if you look at the records, it's blog #6, which is almost as scary.) 

No doubt about it, I've been around for awhile. Who'd have thought back in 2013 when I started typing away as a fourteen-year-old bookworm that I'd still be as addicted to blogging almost six years later! Some of you have been reading my stuff from almost the very beginning, which is amazing to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's read my articles over all these years, if you're still out there. You are the reader to my writer and that's an extremely important relationship, even if I've never seen you face-to-face or ever will.

If you haven't had enough of me and would like to follow along with my next adventures, you're in luck - I'm still writing. My new blog is emmasbiggirlboots.wordpress.com, where I'm writing about my new adventures as a college student, a first responder, and everything else.

Bye!

Emma

PASSED.

6.11.18

     We were all nervous.

     Justin had huge sweat stains on his t-shirt. Amber threw up outside and Marion bit all his nails off. We stood there in the hallway, like teenagers waiting for a high school musical audition. After four months of class, we had come to the first part of our examination - the practicals. They called us in one by one to the stations, and in between I bounced off the walls and guzzled water and tried to breathe deep. My respirations were over 30; I was a high priority case.

    Was it a good idea to take EMT in four months? I've wondered. Good idea or not, it's been one of the best experiences of my life. All those late nights at class I wouldn't trade for anything. The whole thing would be worth it for the friends I made, even if I didn't pass my exam.

    After I had completed all my stations, there was nothing to do but wait. A minute later my teacher Josh came to get me. "Come on into the kitchen," he said, meaning the fire hall kitchen. (We have a very professional set-up.) There I would find out my score. There, I would find out if I had passed my practical exam and could go on to the state test.

     The woman shook my hand. "You passed all your stations. Congratulations!"

     "Oh," I said, and kind of wobbled on my feet. Josh laughed.

      It's one of the most rewarding feelings ever to work so hard for something, and then accomplish what you set out to do. I have doubted myself so much over this whole endeavor, then started to believe I could do it, doubted again, and went back to believing I could, maybe, be an EMT.

     I am so proud of all my classmates. I am so glad it's over! I am so glad it happened. I PASSED MY PRACTICAL! Now all I have to do is take the state written test. Piece of cake. Or so they say...
   

Grandpa

My Grandpa made the best popcorn. It took him minutes and he didn't have to think about it at all, but that's the way it is with a gift.

Making popcorn was only one of Grandpa's gifts. He made depressing things ok, and even funny. We would go to pick blueberries at the end of the season when they were almost gone. After an hour or so one evening, Grandpa said, "Nobody should have to suffer like this." One year - many years - it rained so much in the spring our corn got flooded and only came up in places. "No corn," Grandpa said, and I laughed, because it was ok. 

He called my cat "big fat old ugly kitty" and he called my rabbits "levites." He called my mom "Nance" and my cousin "Mary Belle." He called me "Brown Eyes" and "Little Girl." He thought I drove too fast, but he still taught me how when I bought my first truck. He loved Little House on the Prairie, but he wouldn't let us watch M*A*S*H, which came on afterward. 

Sadie and Molly and I would go to the Church of God with Grandma and Grandpa some Sundays in the summer. When Grandpa got bored during the sermon, he drew pictures on the bulletin. He drew my cat Oliver inside a wishing well. He drew a "dead apple tree," and he wrote about how Bill Grogan's goat was tied to the railroad tracks after eating three shirts off the line.

These are only my memories - I had him for nineteen years. I didn't deserve to have him. That's the way it is with a gift.

******

It's very hard to sit in that church without Grandpa.

The hardest part was the singing. He loved our singing. He loved people. He loved all of us, and love makes me cry. I think of that night with all of us in the hospital around him, singing, soaking up borrowed time. That time was sweeter than any I have ever spent with my family because of it. He gave that time to us and He made it enough. That's the way it is with a gift.

******

If I close my eyes, he's there, all dressed up in flannels to go into the blackberry patch. He's stacking wood, making sure the ends are just right. He's sitting out there in my audience, clapping for my sisters and me. He's pitting cherries at the dining room table making jokes about breaking teeth on cherry pits. He's walking across the parking lot carrying pies down to the stand. 

I miss you, Grandpa, and I can't wait to see you again.