Grandma's House

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Grandma's House My most distinct childhood memories are at my Grandma Darlene's house, a quaint trailer on the edge of Anderson. Grandma lives near the end of a tiny little dirt road and has lived there for more than thirty years. We can barely get through the door because there are mountains and mountains of boxes, clothes and barrels filled with who knows what. At the bottom of all that there is a fairly large wooden rocking bench, my great uncle made right before his wife died. Cushioning these layers upon layers of junk is a nasty, old, mated scrap of carpet. The carpet is a burnt orange, calico color that has been stepped on and had people's shoes wiped off on more times than a welcome mat. Bordering the side of the porch is a barbecue from what looks like it is from the 1950's. It's all charred and where the black paint once was now is a thick coating of orange rust. In the corners there are millions of spiders that have taken up residence. Once we conquered the spiders and climb over the massive piles of boxes, we open the spring loaded door and the smell of coffee and burning wood rushes over us. As we entered the living room we traveled back in time, to an old yet still messy Victorian house. In front of the door the floor is tile; four or five of the tiles are broken where my Papa dropped a hammer years ago. As we move deeper into the living room the floor changes to a gray carpet with yellow and brown stains in many different places. The big windows are draped with large lacey curtains and doilies surround the coffee table and all the sides' tables. We bounce down on a blue floral couch and set our stuff on the oak wood coffee table that is less than ten inches from our shins. Beneath this table there are golden po... ... middle of paper ... ...ig would scream over and over again until the lid was shut. Then in would come Grandma with her hands on her hips looking at us like we were so silly. In the end we would always get a cookie. My Grandma Darlene's house is the simplest, homiest, and most wonderful place I could ever imagine. Her place might not seem like much but it's the little things that are most important. Her house contains so many of my fondest memorize. When I'm busy, angry or just frustrated, I wish and think back on the times when Ashley and I would dump the whole box of lucky charms all over the floor and only the marshmallows. It the simple things I miss like watching Scooby-Doo in my PJ's on Sunday morning, making sparkly crafts and play baseball. All of these fun thing where done at my grandma's and I'm sure there will be a lot more to do when I go over there this Thanksgiving.
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