"Danny," my grandma whispered, "are you in here?" I poked my head out from behind the massive, oak door of the closet where I was hiding. My heart was racing and I was doing everything in my power to not burst out in laughter from excitement. Meanwhile my grandma walked around the room and looked under the bed trying to find me. I lost my focus and bumped the door, causing the rusty hinges to creak. My grandma came and opened the closet door making me scream with astonishment. I ran past my grandma into her blue living room with her chasing me. We ran behind her brown, polyester furniture and around the maple coffee table in the middle of the room. Eventually she cornered me behind her classical piano and gave me the chance to surrender only if I gave her a monstrous hug.
             This was how I spent every Sunday afternoon at my grandma's house when I was a child. I loved my grandma and cherished all the things we did together. Whether it was taking walks on a warm afternoon or playing cribbage, I loved being with my grandma. She truly made me feel special and made me believe that I could do anything if I wanted it bad enough. My grandma's influence on me made me respect life and appreciate everything I received in this world.
             I grew very close to my grandma when I was a child. My fondest memory of her was when we would go for walks at the golf course when it was closed. We would walk barefoot on the cool, green grass and look for golf balls. Occasionally my grandma would bring a soft quilt that we would sit on while she read to me. She read adventurous stories like The Three Musketeers or The Hobbit, but I still managed to fall asleep.
             Later, I would wake up to my grandma whispering in my ear, "Danny, wake up Sweetheart. We need to get home before it gets any later." In sleep I had forgotten where I was. When I was fully awake I realized I was still at the golf course, but the...