My grandparents’ house

Since I have memory, every Saturday of my childhood, I spent my nights in my grandparents’ house. I never met my grandpa, he died a couple of months after I was born. But I had a great connection with my grandmother since always. It was a great tradition to the whole family to make barbeques in the backyard every weekend. For us, it was the time to get together and unite more as a family. To tell stories, to catch up with the gossips, to play with my cousins and siblings, to almost everything. I remember that even the rainy or cold winter days do not stop us from getting together and have a great time (Usually in this occasions we all spent the night in the warm living room, with these old sofas and an old tv). I grew up there, I grew up surrounded with my whole family in that special backyard with an old rusty set of swings, and this giant walnut tree that covered the whole yard, it was that maybe one of the reasons I felt so protected. Isn’t that great? Indeed it really was. Year after year, weekend after weekend. For us Saturday approaching was meaning one and only one thing: to get together. Christmas, New Year’s Eve, Halloween Nights and Birthdays or any other Holidays are special nights though, as for us they are events in which we love to make all the preparatives, the food, the decorations. For me, it’s magical. I always want to wait no more for these parties, I love them. As time passed on, we grew up together happier every single time.  Unfortunately, since grandmother died, barbecues were now only made some weekends. Maybe once a month (If we are lucky). Maybe since she died, part of the house died too. My Father and his siblings had a really bad struggle in the decision to sell the house as all the memories and feelings were covered by them. Until today, it isn’t sold yet.  However nothing keep us for partying and celebrating like she (My grandma) loved to do. For me that house isn’t only a house, is my childhood home. It is and always will be a special place in my memories and my heart. If I could tell all the crazy stories that happened there I don’t think I could finish, Maybe I could even write a book.