Best story ever

    by AsianPiee

    18 Comments

    1. I’m the original poster of this post, u/Qvistenn was my main but I removed it for personal reasons

    2. Sujana_torge on

      I remember being little and sitting next to my grandfather, looking out the window, watching the cars go by. He’d tell me one of three stories he used to repeat every time we did that. I think they’re tattooed on my mind now, because on long trips—when I’m not the one driving—I find myself staring out the window, and it feels like those stories are playing back in his voice.

    3. Kind_Reaction5809 on

      Grandparent lore is either dull or crazy. Case in point, my grandpa practically kidnapped my pregnant grandma before fleeing to Arizona where he got arrested for robbing a motel.

    4. luxafelicity on

      My favorite story from my grandma that I heard sooooo many times growing up was about the first car she ever bought herself after she started teaching. It was a Pontiac Firebird (can’t remember the year anymore), white exterior with red leather interior. I’ve always wanted to find a Firebird with that exact coloring but I’ve never been able to.

    5. realVincenzo on

      Is that like the parent watching the 6 year olds favorite movie for the 20th time this week…because it makes the child happy? Seems like everything circles.

    6. My grandma had dementia for the last few years of her life, so bad towards the end that she would switch stories half way through her sentence. I didn’t care, because I knew one day soon would be her last. I listened to the same stories about her family coming over from Italy as long as I could

    7. Confidentium on

      By the looks of that expression, his favorite story must be from when he crawled through the trenches during the war.

    8. My Grandma with Alzheimer’s stories were always completely fictional and fairly racist.

    9. HardcoreAvocado on

      I have patients like that. I smile and act interested every time and it makes their day.

    10. AverageMako3Enjoyer on

      And one day you sit there, listening to the story for the umpteenth time, blissfully unaware it would be the last time it was told to you. And when the dust settles you realize the story now exists only in your mind, and you’ve witnessed firsthand how fickle a mind can be. After all, the final time you heard the story you were only so far into your own, and you wonder how long you will be able to hold onto it before it melts away into the folds. 

      Source: life experiences I guess 

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