My Grandmother's House

by Emberlyn Azure

Until my Grandma moved to California, we would visit her in Massachusetts every summer. She lived on a hill in a log cabin with no close neighbors. When you drove up the road, there were giant green trees, soft moss and colorful flowers as far as the eye could see. On the steps and inside was a cozy abode of quilts and knickknacks (or as my Grandma calls them – Chachkahs).
My Grandma’s house always had a tasty smell of the food cooking in the oven. As you walked upstairs, you would start to smell the strong smell of moth balls and fresh blankets. My Grandma’s house was elderly and unique.
Grandma’s house was peaceful. I would sit on the squishy couch, a couch like a feather on a cloud. I would sit there in the morning watching TV and waiting for breakfast. After breakfast, we would plan a day full of friends and the town’s carnival.
To understand sitting in Grandma’s living room, close your eyes and picture a medium sized room with dark wood walls. Now instead of imagining sitting on a normal chair, picture yourself on the softest couch ever, with a not so attractive green carpet. You lean over to the side table with a ceramic lamp on it and grab the remote. You lean back and turn on the television. Soon after your Grandma comes in with some of your favorite cereal. AAHH! This is the life. Then everyone comes in and you plan the day.
Most importantly, Grandma’s house was a way to be calm and visit family. After the long day, we would come back to the living room and sit on the couch. We were coral silently resting in our home, the sea.
Every day we were there we would have the same routine with Grandma cooking, me on the couch, and my mom on the phone. At the end of our visit, we would drive to the airport and say goodbye.
When we got home, we would be happy to be back in California but sad because it would be another year till we go back to Grandma’s log house on the hill in Massachusetts.