Oh no! I shouted at the top of my voice, please don’t break down my grandparents’ house I had just returned from New York to Trinidad with my parents. I left Trinidad when I was six years old. I grew up in couva with my grandparents, where I had many friends living in there in the same villag.e
I walked through the street where my friends and I once played jump rope. The sight of the many old-fashioned houses caught my attention. I stop as I started at one house with boarded up windows. It looked weather beaten, but the sight of that house painted a mischievous smile on my face because it was the house where I once stole mangoes from my neighour, Uncle Bob.
As I approached the yard a sea of colours rushed past my eyes and painted the house and the garden became alive with fresh flowers and swaying coconut trees. I saw myself swinging under the Poui tree and grandma bringing freshly extracted sugar cane juice for me.
Even though this was just a memory I could hear the melodious singing of the birds all day. Once again, I could smell the frangranced sent of the large roses that bloomed near to the garden.
Before I got off the swing I looked up to the tree and saw the soft, yellow poui petals greeting my face. Some of the tiny blossoms gracefully fell at my feet. I grabbed a handful and through it up in the air.
I saw the vision of myself greeting the gardener, who gave me roses to put in the vase. He was always very kind and didn’t mind me playing in the garden.
I pushed open the large wooden door which had a carved of a heart shape on it. Inside the house the living room which was filled with a furniture couch