this is the paper i turned in

Stranger
I could heard the beep of the door alarm go off and the luggage rolling across the tiles of the kitchen floor. My older sister was texting me, even though she was in her room which was right across the hall from mine. She was asking me if I was going to go downstairs or not. I told her that I didn’t know. It was really dark outside and I was tired from the basketball practice I had had earlier in the evening. I was already perfectly settled underneath my covers ready to go to sleep, or at least I was pretending to be. I heard my younger sister was yelling for us from the bottom of the stair case, telling us that he was here. She and my mom had gone to the airport earlier to pick him up. He had just flown around two thousand five hundred miles from the west coast of California all the way to our east coast home in Virginia Beach. My dad was on a business trip that week and would be returning next day. My anxiety had been building up as usual and I was feeling very uncomfortable. I did not want to go down the stairs but I knew that it was something I just had to do. I pulled myself together as best as I could because I didn’t want to give off a rude first impression.
I absolutely hate awkward situations; I either don’t put myself in them or I avoid them in any way possible. When my parents told us about the visit we all seemed to be pretty uptight about it. I played it off like I was cool with it, but I had been nervous about this for a while now. None of us knew if this would turn out to be a good or a bad idea, it was just something that needed to happen either way. The whole situation was so strange to me because I didn’t really know what, why, or how things had happened in the past. All I knew was that I had never met this man before. He was a complete stranger to me.
I knew next to nothing about him, except for what I had seen in a picture of him when I was younger that only showed him from the mouth down. He was very tan and had a T-shirt with hieroglyphics on it which gave me the false impression that he was some sort of Egyptian. I didn’t have a clue as to what he would look like, how he would talk, or what his personality would really be like. I had really only herd his name, Kenneth, a couple of times throughout my life and it was never used in context to something I understood. I had heard him being referred to as “the guru” by my grandmother and aunt because he was an ardent follower of the many alternative health concepts and practices of Edgar Cayce. He believed in things like rubbing Castor oil all over your body to cure various liver conditions and eating one meal a day of strictly raw vegetables. Since my dad was a doctor, I could see how he could easily get into an argument with someone like Ken.
I was tired, but I made my way down the stairs as I was trying to listen through the walls. I creeped through the kitchen where my mom was sitting. She didn’t say anything she just gave me an awkward look and then a smile. I made my way through the sun room, and finally to the doorway of the guest room. I could see my little sister Eden holding his hand as if they were ending a greeting. He was very tall, over six feet and also very lean and in shape. This was probably because he did not own a car and instead used a bicycle as his only means of transportation. He definitely looked much younger than his seventy years of age. He had on jeans, a nice grey sweater, Birkenstock sandals, and some weird blue hat that sort of looked like smaller version of a beret. His grey beard was cut short and his eyes were very wide and teary. His nose was pretty large and protruding and the tip of it slanted downward, sort of like my dad’s nose. Overall he looked pretty goofy, like a character in some funny story or a man you would stare at in a store.
I had no plans for what I would do or say at this uneasy moment. We were both smiling as I stood there still. I then took his hand and introduced myself. He repeated my name, “Adrienne,” back to me. I guess my little sister had escaped from the room without me even noticing. It was just us two standing there and we were looking at each other dead straight in the eyes. It is really hard to describe, but the look on his face was filled with much joy, while at the same time it also seeming to have some sense of sadness buried in it somewhere. The room was filled with such a strange vibe. I went in for the hug out of instinct I guess. He smelt very earthy, like patchouli or something. I could tell that this moment meant a lot to him and I could see that he had been waiting for this for a very long time. I could sense that we were feeling some of the same emotions. They were so strong and overpowering but also unable to be differentiated or categorized. I held him tight, and while we were still in that moment I realized that this wasn’t very awkward at all. I felt a huge relief. I could hear the tears in his voice as he said very lightly into my ear, “granddaughter…finally… my granddaughter.”
It was rather late and everyone was sleepy so I left him and said something about seeing him in the morning. My older sister never came down that night, which is so like her because she is very shy. I made my way up to my room quickly so that I didn’t have to run into anyone on the way. I shut my door and let it all out. I was crying because I had to, because my feelings were uncontrollable. I felt happy and strange. I was somehow more contempt than I was before but I was also more upset because I was confused and angry about why this was happening now, when I was seventeen years old. I wondered why I had never really had a real conversation with my dad about why he had not seen his father for over twenty five years of his life.
I still do not know why my grandparents got divorced. My grandfather left his children right before my dad went to college and neither left or gave financial support to any of his family. He hasn’t had a real job since he retired from the military before the age of forty. He has never remarried, but has gone from one younger girlfriend to another, living with them instead of ever making a home of his own. He has been to more places than I ever will go and he seen and done many things that I will never even know about. I couldn’t tell you if my father has forgiven him or not. I will never forget the look in his face as he greeted Ken that next day. All I know is that he is still the only one in my family that has yet agreed to see or talk to him.
In those few seconds of a hug, I could feel a life of lost time. Every now and then we get a letter or an email with updates on his health or hobbies. My older sister says she hates him and that she would have been fine never having met him. She thinks he is a stubborn asshole. I am pretty stubborn myself; maybe that’s where I get it from. Maybe that’s where my father get’s it from too. I don’t know if I will ever see Ken again. He is very old and I don’t see myself going to California by myself any time soon. All I know is that the blood that runs through my veins is his. Without his existence I would not be a part of this world. He is a stranger, but I love him.