Thinking back on my childhood, there is a montage of people, places, and events that jump out at me. The most vivid memories that I have result from my grandparents' house. As long as I can remember my plans for the weekend were never a mystery. I never had to wonder what I was going was going on or how I was going to fill my time. There was no doubt in my mind that I was going to my grandma and grandpa's house.
My grandma and grandpa lived "in the woods". That's how I declared it when I was little. Going into detail now, I can say that they lived approximately five miles east of our little town on a little unnoted road overlooking a massive pit in which the water was a beautiful deep turquoise color. The house was the perfect size for a small family of two; with three bed rooms and a large living room with a little kitchen and a smaller room off of that.
Of course as any country house would have, there was a little porch off the back which was basically right in the middle of the middle of the woods. The ample smell of pine and the abundance of fresh air would be beyond believe for anyone who breathed the contaminated foul city air everyday.
Being younger, in the age range of three through 10, this place seemed like the most wonderful place to be. It even topped being at any of my friends' houses. When I would walk in the door I would be hit with the sweet smelling aroma of flowers. My grandma always had dried flower pedals in shiny, clear crystal bowls. After happily greeting my grandparents I went outdoors to play with the animals. There was...