My grandparents house.


My cousin posted this picture on Facebook where she drove by my grandparents' house. They passed away  about 20 or so years ago. The picture reminded me of a piece I wrote for a creative writing class I did in high school.

My Grandparents’ House

It was a place
Of fun and joy
Where I would run and play
When I was a small boy.
The smell of cedar
And the aroma of honeysuckle.
Old abandoned chicken coops
Telling stories of games
Of hide and seek.
Long walks along the railroad tracks.
Wet kisses on the cheek
And “My how you’ve grown”.

But now those halls are empty
My grandparents are gone.
No more games at the coops.
No more playing in the field.
But as I stand outside the house,
White paint reflecting the summer sun,
The wind picks up
And the smell of cedar and honeysuckle
Fills my nostrils.
Tears well in my eyes,

And a smile crosses my face.

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