This is a story I wrote about my grandparents in one of my writing classes:
My story takes place back in 1967. I remember standing with my Grandfather and Grandmother in front of their house. I am looking up at them with a smile that is radiating so much happiness that they know I am happy to be there.
Their two room house was repainted in basic white, year after year. My Dad grew up in that house and we would visit once a year, in the summer. We would drive from South Dakota to Texas, it was a long drive but a drive we all looked forward to and loved!
The front room, which also served as a bedroom and the couch pulled out for the guest bedroom, which is where I slept with my sister. There was a window in the living room that my Grandmother always left opened on cool breezy days. I can still see her beautiful yellow curtains that took flight with the summer breeze. Grandma’s dresser was in the living room too, and it was the first thing I saw when I woke in the early morning hours. There was a jewelry box, lotion, talcum powder, and her trinket box that held her hairpins always sitting in the same place on the dresser. Always there every year never moving except the lotion and talcum powder to be replaced with new ones.
The kitchen smelled like fresh baked bread and vegetables from their garden. The cabinets were old and white and the light yellow linoleum floor made the kitchen bright in the small house. Meal times were always special at Grandpa and Grandma’s house.
We were served with home made bread, fried chicken, and all the fresh vegetables you can imagine from the garden. My Grandma always made my Dad is favorite dessert when we came to visit, Southern-style banana pudding. Which contained banana pudding layered between vanilla wafers and warm bananas spread just right on top. You could smell the pudding baking all over the house. The sweet goodness danced across my mind many times. My Grandpa was an expert gardner and my Grandmother was a wonderful cook! I wish they both were alive and here today because I can see the sign, “Myrtle Mae and Clyde’s Down-Home Cooked Meals.”
Evenings at the house were filled with stories and laughter. The family would gather on the front porch in the coolness of the evening with Grandpa and Grandma sitting in their porch swing. We would tell stories and reminisce about the events of the day until bedtime.
Everyday was a new adventure. There were always new places to explore and fun things to do. We had to use our imagination! One day we would be Cowboys and Indians lost in my Grandpa’s garden and the next day we could be chasing after frogs.
My Grandparent’s were content in their simple surroundings and it makes me realize that regardless of where you live, your house is your palace
