In the evenings light, my car rolls up the white gravel and creeps to a stop. It has been eight years since I have last seen my beloved grandmother. She owns a retirement getaway between two snow-capped mountains, in a tiny, yet glorious country ranch. Everything was so familiar and untouched. Orange and red tulips, that grandma and I planted, still surround the base of the house. The large weeping willow, that danced with the wind, still shades the garden that is on the side of the house.
I anxiously got out of my car and proceed down the cobble stone path that leads to the front door. The door seemed much smaller than I remember. Almost immediately after pushing the little round door bell, my grandma was there to greet me with a smile of excitement, a big bear hug, and a loving kiss on the cheek.
Walking into the hallway, my mouth watered as I enlightened my nose with the scent of good ole' grams home cooking.
She was playing some 50's jazz music on her antique phonograph like always.
I asked how Pepper , my grandmas pet Dalmatian, was doing.
Grandma told me that she was out in the back yard and suggested I visit her. She slowly turned and made her way to the back sliding door. Following her to the back sliding door, I noticed that all the same colorful paintings and family photographs still hang on the walls.
Pepper was at the edge of the wooden deck rolled up in a ball, her head resting between her two paws. I cautiously stepped out of the door wall, careful not to trip on the strip for the door tracking, and on to the deck. Pepper eyes opened and she slowly looked up at...