Leaves were blowing around the doorway as I walked in the warm living room of my grandma’s house, Macy’s parade floats sailed across the television screen.  Jimmy and Lisa, my little cousins were laughing at the tall Snoopy balloon.   Suddenly, Aunt Becky and Grandma blurted out from the kitchen at the same time, “Look who just walked in the door!”  The whole herd of family members scrambled to meet me and hug my neck.   Something inside me knew that this was going to be the best Thanksgiving of my life.

   All at once, it seemed as if my head was a basketball being passed from each member of our family team.  Each one of them had to tug on my cheeks and squeeze me.  In a few minutes, the flurry of hands scurried back into the kitchen.  I started to take off my coat and join my cousins in front of the T.V. Instead, something pulled me toward the back door.  “Hike! . . . . humph.”  All the male members of our family were outside playing football.  My heart skipped a beat, and my feet rushed out the door.  The screen slammed with a bang, and I was in the game.

    After several hours, we were exhausted.  We played until we couldn’t play any more.  Every touchdown became a roll in the leaf piles that dotted Grandma’s back yard.  “Losers are gonna’ have to bag all these leaves,” Uncle Tim shouted.  So we got back up and played some more.   “It’s ready!” hollered  Aunt Sue.  A whirl of legs and arms rushed for the dining room.  Sweet spices and aromas hung like a cloud over the table.  My stomach growled while Grandma said grace.

    All at once, plates and spoons started flying.  I piled the paper plate in my hands with mashed potatoes, ham, green beans, applesauce, and turkey.  The best part was the basket of yeast rolls.  I loved yeast rolls.  Nobody could bake them like Grandma.  When I walked by her, I gave her a big hug.  “These rolls are the best,” I whispered.   Afterwards, the football game on TV wasn’t near as good as  the one we  had outside.  But we were afraid to go back out and face those piles of leaves scattered all over the yard.  Uncle Tim told funny stories about my dad.  Everyone laughed and told their own stories.  My stomach and my heart felt full.  When I went to sleep that night, I could still hear Grandma laughing her big, hearty laugh.

    Grandma died the next summer.  Last year we didn’t even get together with everyone because Momma was sick.  I’ll always remember that one special Thanksgiving, Grandma’s wonderful yeast rolls, the leaf piles in the backyard . . . and best of all the laughter.

Can you smell the yeast rolls and hear the laughter in this story?

Personal prompts give you an opportunity to put a lot of feeling in your ending.  The prompt usually starts with words like "think" or "remember."  At the end of your prompt, prove to the reader that you were really thinking or remembering.  The last few sentences should help the reader feel your story too!