The House of Grands

                As a kid, and still today, one of the most significant places to me is the house of my grandmother, this house is awesome. The house is rather small, though big enough for a family of seven. The house maintains its 1950’s look with its rust colored carpet, brick structure, hardwood, and light blue painted walls. Now the house looks a bit more modern with its wood cabinets and a pointed roof rather than a flat surface. This house has grown along with the people who have lived in it for the past fifty years.

                The house is a two leveled, skinny house. It is much deeper than it is tall giving it a ‘Harry Potter’ type feel where it is bigger on the inside than it looks from the outside. The house consists of six total rooms, one being where my late grandpa kept all of his possessions and remained a constant source of mystery for me growing up. Its dark, unfinished basement always sent me flying up the stairs as I imagined something from the basement’s depths chasing.

                Outside the house is where I spent most of my time, playing with cousins and siblings. Adjacent to the house is a monstrous chestnut tree where the spiked shells of the walnuts became so big they were always in danger of falling. I cannot count the amount of times I was told to be careful under that tree because of the spiked ‘death from above’ literally looming over me. Behind the house is the oldest trampoline I have ever seen, its once blue frame now almost completely rusted and I bottom it out the moment I sit on it. Next to the tramp is a small playhouse meant for all of the younger grandchildren, next to that are scooters from what I would imaging would be the seventies. The tires for the scooter have to be pumped up; it is like riding a rather large bike with no seat, pedals, or frame. Then there is the sandbox with the grape vine overhanging, each and every time I go back to the sandbox I check to see if the grapes are in season and take a few if I am lucky enough.

                This house has seen its use whether it is used for family parties or the place where my beloved grandpa drew his last breath. This house has too many emotional ties to be moved out of. This house has seen it all. It has seen births, it has seen deaths, and it has seen the life in between moving at its slow pace. This house has always been a place of comfort for me. Each time I enter this house I know I will be greeted by my grandma who isn’t the stereotypical ‘bring you cookies type’, but more of a ‘I am always, ALWAYS, stocked with the best sweets and candies for the grandchildren. This house is one of the few places where I can find solace from my life and enjoy time with family. Though the greatest part of this house is not the sweets, or the feeling of comfort or solace found within its walls, it is the knowing that all can be right in life. The day my grandpa passed away was an extremely sad and sorrowful day, but this house is a solemn reminder that life goes on. This house represents more than just a place to shelter you from the weather; it represents a firm foundation that you can always return to. Like family, this house will always be there for me, and because of the way it was built, it will probably literally always be there.