Today is the first anniversary of my grandpa’s death. After his death, I gained two of his shirts. One is a sweater that has great sentimental value to me. When I was a kid, I stuck a star on it and he never took it off. The second one is a blue shirt I transformed into a teddy bear. It took me a while to sew it together because I kept thinking of him. His Bear sits on my desk, inspiring me to write my stories. My grandfather was the one person who encouraged me to read when I wanted to. He never forced me to do it like others have done.
When I was younger living in Loveland, CO, I hated to read. The kids in school teased me because I was slow to learn, so reading aloud was something I hated the most in school. I hated doing it at home before my parents too. At the time my grandparents lived in our split-level home, they lived in the lower level. My grandpa encouraged me to read to him and my grandma and afterwards he would give me a piece of candy. At the time I did it for the candy. I would grab a Junie B. Jones book, run down the stairs, sit on his lap, and read to him. Later on I would read to him because I wanted to. It was fun for me to read to him and spend time with him. When I wrote my own little stories, I would read them to him or give them to him to read. He was always so proud of them. Later on when my grandma died, and we moved to Nebraska when I was 9-10, my grandpa moved to live with my aunt. It wasn’t until I was in middle school when I wanted to read more.
So many people ask on Twitter, “Who inspires you to write and read?” Most would give the names of authors they have read while others would give people in their lives. My Grandpa Flap is who I pick. Who inspires you?