Grandma's House

Heavy my heart weighs as I touch the walls of grandma's house. Opening the door, the place was as empty as it was left, yet it looked frozen in time. This same place I grew up in and have an encyclopedia-worth of memories in feels lonely, even in this hello.

My first stop would be upstairs, the room my dad would have my brothers and I sleep with him in. I always got the top bunk bed, to the chagrin of my siblings. Most of this time was spent watching cartoons late at night, trying to pull an all-nighter to which Dad would force me to turn it off and go to sleep. I would always be groggy the next morning. That same corner the television sat in was one I would watch my older brother and Dad play video games.

In another room that not many cared or dared to enter on this floor was one that housed a window overlooking the street below. Some things were clearly left behind. The portrait of Bruce Lee I was always scared of, old magazines, action figures all lay forgotten and gathering dust, a reminder of the childhood I so desperately want to visit. A reminder of time that shall pass.

Back downstairs, I look at the place on the wall my cousins, siblings, and I would measure ourselves in the kitchen. I now notice my cousin Dillion was the recent tallest person, at 5'10 as of his age of seventeen, twenty years ago. As I am now six feet tall exactly, I mark my place, and hold the new record for the tallest of the grandchildren!

In my aunt's room, I remember the corner she would read books to me in, and the movies and programs she would invite me to watch with her when Dad and my grandparents would be gone and needed someone to babysit.

In the living room, there was the missing television full of a massive movie and show collection, all on VHS, DVD, and Blu-Ray, and in its place was only gathering dust on the wall. Even the portraits of Jesus and a map of the country were no longer present. More importantly to me in this room was the absence of the computer by the window. The one I would play countless computer games on and download music to my various music players.

Next on my exploration in this huge home was my uncle's old room. His room was one of a wonderland for any geek. Collectibles, movie and television program sets, action figures, posters, all adorned this small room. Only this room wasn't exactly small, it was only packed in my uncle's passions for fiction. He too had a television used mostly for video games, and his collections through the years helped spur my imagination until as an adult I resolved to shake away such childish things. It was a period of insecurity for me, one I regret highly, for my treatment of others grew exponentially and I pushed them away. My uncle would let me immerse myself in all the fiction he possessed, and he was perhaps the only member on this side of the family to side with us when family drama would rear its ugly head.Leaving this room, I close the door, for that's what Uncle Stephen always preferred.

In a hallway nearby, at the other end of the living room, I go to peer into the small library of books my grandfather had kept. Crime, mystery, history, thrillers, and psychological horrors were the ones he would read in his two favorite spots in the kitchen - at the dining table or on the air vent to either keep warm or cool. It was by his fascination of reading that spurred my imagination and creativity to become an author myself.

Pupils welling with tears, for my memories had somewhere they had to flow out of, I went to the room I saved for last. The room Grandma would provide comfort and one Grandpa would tell us stories in on their bed. It was also in this room that I found a tidbit from Grandpa's past as a country singer in the local town bar.

Though he and I were alone in the house during this event, he was unaware of my presence, as he got out his old guitar and strummed, like a train moving its wheels, and his voice came as the whistle, as he sang of a drifter, departing on locomotive trains from state to state. His voice carried his guitar, in the perfect marriage and in this song he sounded exactly like his musical hero - Hank Williams Sr. One would have thought someone had played the legend's record had they not known! The old man still had it. I never told anyone of this moment, but my experience definitely aligned with those that knew his talent that he never spoke of. He could have been a famous musician, but in the end it was the love of his life and his enormous family that proved most important to him.

Collecting myself in the kitchen, I awaited someone I expected. Fickle things compare to such as memories, and in these nostalgic moments, I longed for my childhood, the only bright parts of it anyway. I would soon snap out of this trance as there was a knock on the door close by.

"Hello there, sorry I am late!" said the realtor, in her apologetic smile. "Got a good look at this place? Real fixer-upper, but I'm sure it'll do."

I thanked the lady, did the discussion, and eventually all was said and done, and I now had the key to this place. My future task is now to fill this place exactly as I remembered it, as I walk every day through this place in the mindset that is likely to kill me, yet I prefer the solitude in my personal heaven than the hardships of the world outside.