My Grandma’s House

Some of the best memories of my life are from my Grandma’s house. When I was a kid my most favorite place to visit was always my Grandma’s house. This was the place I would go before and after school. I always loved going to her house because it made me feel safe since I knew I would not be alone. In the winter I was warm because she always had a crackling fire on those cold and rainy days. It seemed like there was always the smell of freshly brewed coffee. As a matter of fact, it seemed like my Grandma was always making coffee. Grandpa always had a hot steamy cup of coffee in his hands and it was the first thing Grandma offered company when they came to visit. I can even remember the collection of coffee cups that
Afterward, everyone was sent home with large smiles and feelings of gratitude knowing that their bellies were full. Recently, I returned to my Grandma’s house. It seemed so empty because no one has lived there since my Grandma passed away. Some of the windows are cracked and broken, and the house is run down. The grape vine that once covered the wooden arbor that welcomed family and visitors is now merely two old splintered pieces of wood. The once illustrious garden has been reduced to nothing more than a patch of over-grown weeds and dirt and the wonderful pond is completely dried up. The old grandfather oak tree that stood so tall and mighty hovering over the pond has been reduced to a hollowed stump of burnt oak, compliments of Mother Nature delivering one well-placed bolt of lightning. The house that shared so many savory dinners and exciting memories was now cold and uninhabitable. As I walked through the house, the floors creaked eerily with every step I took. I closed my eyes and imagined the family sitting at the table enjoying Sunday dinner, but now, things just don’t seem the