When I think back to the days when I was a child, I think about all of my wonderful childhood memories. Often I wish to go back, back to that point in life when everything seemed simpler. Sometimes I think about it too much, knowing I cannot return. Yet there is still one place I can count on to take me back to that state of mind, my grandparent’s house and the land I love so much.
Their house was old.
My grandparents lived in it most of their adult lives. It was white with black trimming, but most of the paint was chipped away. On the back porch was firewood all year long. No matter if it was winter; spring, summer, or fall the wood was always there. Red, yellow, purple flowers grew alongside the house all spring and summer.
When I entered the door to the foyer the s.