Author Information
Prose Poem
My Grandfather’s TV room
I could certainly say, that my Grandparents’ house is like a second home to me. I dare to say, that sometimes, I feel even more at home there, than at my own house. Every time I go in there, I get this kind of feeling that I can’t explain. It just makes me calmer, as if nothing could go wrong. But nothing compares to a Saturday afternoon in the TV room. It’s double the feeling. There are too many hidden stories in that room. So many, that I would never finish telling them. I basically spent all my childhood in that room. That wasn’t only my cousins and my favorite place though, everybody liked it. Specially my grandfather. Whenever I went there to watch TV with my cousins, we would always hear my grandfather’s footsteps approaching the TV room. Whenever we heard that, it meant trouble. (It meant he would want his TV to himself). As soon as we heard he’s steps we would usually lay in the sofa so that he didn’t see us and cross our fingers hoping he wouldn’t come into the TV room and continue walking towards he’s room instead. If we heard his steps getting farther every time, it meant we were safe. If he stopped for a moment, there was no turning back. We were lost. My Grandfather would come into the room and just stand there; until the kindest grandchild, which wasn’t usually me, would stand up and ask him if he wanted to watch some TV. He always came into the room as if he was marching, making us now that he was coming. Of course we could hear him from meters away, but we still had hope. We hoped he would turn back and go to his room to watch some TV there. But I’m telling you, that room was special, everyone except the dog, would fight over that room. If he did come in, we would usually stay still, without a whisper. Then, after a few seconds we would hear him say “who is it there?” Then, with a charming voice, I would turn around and say hi pretending as if I had no idea that he was standing there. He would look at me with a strange look and ask again, “who is it?” (He had a hard time recognizing all of us). Of course he really didn’t care who of his 32 grandchildren was sitting on his sofa; he just wanted me to offer him my seat. When we were SUPER lucky he would say, “no, it’s fine stay there”, but of course that never happened. I never really thought about the importance of that TV room until my grandpa was gone; along with the footsteps and that cozy feeling that I got when I was there. It wasn’t until he wasn’t there that I realized that HE was the feeling. He was the one that made that room special. Now, whenever I sit there I automatically wait to hear some footsteps, but this time, actually wanting them to approach.
