The first home that I vaguely remember is my grandparents’ home. (My dad’s parents.) Dad had been in the army and I’m not sure if he was completely out then or what. I know my oldest sister was born somewhere in the state of Washington. A brother and sister followed after my oldest. Then, I came along.
Grandma and Grandpa’s house always smelled so good. Aromas of freshly baked food filled the air often. During the winter months, the house smelled of wood burning. I loved that scent. Grandpa and Grandma’s house was always so warm.
We lived with my grandparents until I was 18 months old. For some reason, I can remember celebrating Easter there. It was early Easter morning, Dad and I were awake and in the kitchen. I found a basket full of candy at the kitchen door. He smiled down at me and said I could have one piece.
Mom, Dad, me and my siblings moved to where Mom still lives today. Her house is 50 years old. There are tons of memories of my grandparents’ house and of my parents’ house.
Time keeps moving on. We just keep getting older. I often wonder where the time goes.
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