Oh, how I hate root beer

I am rather picky when it comes to soda pop (where I’m from we call it just “pop,” and get mad at people that call it “soda.”) I do not like any dark colored pops, and I swear that I am NOT racist. My favorites include grape, pineapple (don’t criticize until you’ve tried it!), orange, Sierrah Mist and raspberry. So, when my brother and I helped out an elderly lady that lives near us, I had to gulp down what I hate most: root beer.

She called my grandpa and asked if he knew any boys that would be willing to do work for her. He told her about my older brother who would probably be able to help her take care of her overgrown garden. Unfortunately, Adam was too busy that day to even think about going over to her house to check out what work needed to be done. Instead, my mother and I paid her a visit, just to see if I was capable of handling the job.

We rang the doorbell, and out came the cutest old lady I have ever seen. Her steps were slow, but her mouth and her brain moved fast. She kept looking me over and saying that I needed to eat some spinach, and that the work she needed done would most likely be the cause of my death. My mother and I laughed with her after she made a comment about how I am too skinny to handle the work. She took us out back to her beautiful backyard and into her garden. Flowers of every color were everywhere. Unfortunately, Lilies that she had planted had completely taken over the entire garden, and she wanted them OUT. She told me that I would need my older brother to help, and so, two days later I called her and made arrangements to start on her garden.

I biked over to her house and greeted her with “good afternoon!” when I saw her. She led me out back and we sat on her deck and looked out at her backyard for a little while, chattering the entire time. She asked me questions, and I answered them. My brother showed up as we were talking, and then we got to work. Shovels were removed from her garage, and dirt was broken into in her garden. We dug up lily after lily, while she walked around with her cane and supervised, sometimes even helping a little.

She disappeared for a few minutes, and came out with two cans of root beer for us to enjoy. I was so touched, that I didn’t even care that it was root beer. I tossed one to Adam, and opened my own, taking a huge long sip and trying not to taste. “That sure hits the spot! Thanks!” I said, and she looked pleased. We finished digging up the lilies (after I managed to get some calluses on my hands) and we put away the equipment. I walked into the garage, drinking the rest of my root beer and pretending that it was lemonade.

She was pleased with the work that we did, and impressed with me. Imagine that! A girl doing tough work like that! She paid us (a nice sum) and I wrote down our names and phone number in case she ever needs us again in the future. I told her that I am perfectly capable of doing any housework she needs help with, and she thanked us very sincerely.

I can tell that she gets very lonesome living all by herself. The next time I see her outside when I am riding my bike by, I am going to stop and have a nice, long chat with her. She is the sweetest old lady I have ever met (other than my grandma of course!), and I am really happy to have met her. I am hoping that she will call me soon with more work. I plan to ask her about all of the traveling she has done throughout her life, and I know she will answer every question of mine thoroughly.

2 thoughts on “Oh, how I hate root beer

  • I think this is absolutely beautiful. I think you should submit this to NeXT. Maybe something about volunteering where you least expect it or something. Ugh, I just loved this!

  • hi juss came across this post throu google i was searching for something else but u r post was very cute couldnt leave without reading it 😛

    juss curiousty how old r u?

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