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MY GRANDMA'S HOUSE
Since I have memory, every time I go to my grandma’s house, I have the same feeling. It is a small and old house but the things in it are what make it so particular. For instance, the clocks, the sound of the clocks ticking makes that house timeless. Each one of those clocks tick at its own time, like if they weren’t measuring time at all. Whenever I enter in that house I lose all notion of time; minutes, hours, weeks, years, all of it. I could even feel like if I was a child again, running all over the place searching for Easter eggs, playing on the hairy carpet in the living room or just staring and studying my grandmother’s flowers. The flowers, my grandmother’s spoiled, are all over the place. There are so many that they even have to hang them from the roof. Even from the outside, you can see how that plants took over the house. They are my grandma’s hobby, she talks to them, sings to them, she even makes paintings of them. Those flowers come and go, like old people in a nursing home. Each of them has its own story, its own space in the house. I remember my grandmother always took me to the garden to see the flowers and the trees. She insistently told me the name of each plant, but I couldn’t remember all, especially because each week she had more plants. One thing that remains the same, are the paintings. Each room of the house has at least one of them, and I could bet that they are where they are for a specific and more profound reason. Most of the paintings are of flowers and of my grandpa. The ones of my grandpa have always captured me, since I was little. I can stare at his portrays for hours trying to figure out something, anything about him. The reason for this is because I never met my grandfather, he died at the age of 70 when my father was 15 years old. I have always like the love story between my grandparents; I find it admirable. Love each other no matter the age and keep that love during 40 years even though you don’t have that person any more, it seems like something hard to achieve. Maybe the reason why I feel the house is timeless is because my grandmother would love to live in the 90’s again, when her husband was still with her. These three characteristics are the ones that always remain. The clocks ticking, the flowers and the paintings are the reason why this house still gives me that same feeling.
