12 May 2012
Once Upon a House
I remember my childhood as if were yesterday; we were out on the freshly cut hill of grass overlooking my grandmother, who was peering out of the window. Soon she would be calling my cousins and me in for ham sandwiches and homemade kluski noodle soup. But we would play until we couldn’t feel our legs any longer, rolling our bikes and electric cars up and down that hill that used to appear to me as the Kilimanjaro Mountain top. We kids sure had crazy imaginations. And I can still to this day hear my grandfather yelling at us in polish to stay off the hill because our vehicles were leaving track marks in the grass he just cut, but then he sees us giggling and couldn’t help but laugh. Yes, those were the days were nothing else mattered to us, but sleep, play, and food, Oh! Don’t let me forget our daily 2 hour Power Rangers series, we never missed an episode. My grandmothers’ home was the house that built us: walking in there now makes me get all teary eyed thinking about all of the greatest times my family has shared together, each of our hearts are at the root of that home; this is why it is and forever will be my most cherished safe heaven. My grandmother’s house was the center of our family; I remember all the holiday dinners and birthdays shared in that home; we would playing outside all day every summer, even sometimes in the winter too. Making snow forts and snow angels; bon fires and S’mores. And as we got older, we still had the closest family bond that no one could ever compare to in my eyes. Family is the most important aspect in the growth of a child. Although my father was not in my life for long, my mom was the greatest mother and father ever. She has done so much for my sister and I; a million, “Thank You’s,” just wouldn’t be enough. I hold such an attachment to my grandmother’s home because I grew up in her home. Many of my family members lived in her home at one point. I...