Grandma’s House

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This week, the PhotoHunters theme is walking. Every week, I look back through my photos to see if I can find one that fits. Sometimes, I find one that’s recent and sometimes, I have to go back a few months or even a year or two.

This week, I found a nice picture from Christmastime. Gracie and I were walking towards my Grandma’s house, and Joe took our picture.

This picture makes my heart smile. This is my Grandma’s house. This is the home of my childhood.

I can’t believe how small it looks. My Grandma looks small these days, too.

I lived with my parents when I was growing up, but my Grandma’s house is the home I remember. To the right of the house is the field where we found milkweed, the creek I “fell” into every week, the hill where I rode my sled, the empty spot where the outhouse used to sit, and the tree row with the tree that has bouncing branches that we used as swings. And then there’s the cave, built by the man who built the house more than a hundred fifty years ago.

In front of the house is the coal pile, but you can’t see it behind the car. Behind the house is a big patch of raspberry bushes and a little trickle of water that is so polluted it runs red. Way behind the house, beyond the creek, is my uncle’s field and his house.

To the left of the house is my Grandma’s big garden, the spot where we saw snakes swimming in the creek, the swamp, the ant hill, the apple tree, the driveway, the snow fence, the pear tree, and the lilac bushes.

What? You can’t see all that?

Now that I look again, I guess it’s outside of the photo. It’s so clear in my mind that I forgot.

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