The House

         I had finally made it back. According to my family heirloom, the gold watch that my grandfather gave me, I had made good time. It was in this very same house that he had given it to me all those years ago. My, my, how father time does deceive. Gone by so fast are the days of my youth. It seems like only yesterday I was getting yelled at for running through these halls.

         As I entered the kitchen, I could almost smell the orange marmalade. My what a skillful and articulate gourmet grandmother was. I could still see grandfather pouring his coffee from what seemed like a bottomless coffee pot.

         I walked through the kitchen and entered the mudroom. I could still remember taking of my dirty muddy shoes and sometimes everything except my skivvies. Good thing it was the laundry room too.

         I went out the backdoor of the mudroom into the backyard. I can remember many a good time here. At the end of the yard is a creek. Downstream a ways there used to be a beaver dam. I ventured a bit too close to it once and had a run in with an angry beaver. I was stunned. He finally ran away. I can laugh about it now.

         I walked around out front and realized I hadn’t even gone upstairs yet. Before I got to go back in, a women pulled up in a newer Jaguar. She got out of her car and was carrying a digital camera.

         She introduced herself and I did the same and told her it was my grandfather’s house before it was my aunt and uncle’s. He passed away and she was going to go to a home. She was nice enough to let me come down and go through it again, quite possibly for the last time.

         Hard to believe it’s going to be on the auction block. I wonder who will be the lucky bidder.

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