To this day, I can still remember the great times I had as a child at Grandma and Grandpa's house. The smell of the coffee roasting early in the morning, the sound of the logs crackling as they burned in the fireplace, the music of John Denver's "County Roads" being played on the old fashioned radio, the smell of Grandpa's smoking pipe being lit. Yes, these are some of the great things I got to experience while visiting my Grandparents.
It always brought me joy when my Dad said, "Zac, we are going to Grandma and Grandpa's house, so get ready." Every morning I woke up there I would find my Grandpa sitting at the old wooden kitchen table enjoying his morning coffee, a paperback novel and an old smoking pipe. I could often take a glance out the large kitchen window and find a group of deer feasting upon the corn that Grandpa had laid out for them. I would often hear the sound of the birds as they sat upon the bird feeder and stared into the kitchen window chirping songs of happiness. It's almost as if they were saying good morning to us.
In the front yard of the house, there were several trees that had been planted for each of the grandchildren. The trees were planted the year of the grandchild's birth. Mine happened to be a Kwanza cherry tree and it was planted in 1983. The tree was planted right of the winding driveway about thirty feet from the front of the house. Every year, the leaves of the tree would cycle through three or four colors. If it was early in the spring, the leaves would likely have a green color to it. In the summer months they would usually be yellow or orange. In the late fall they would have a nice copper-colored tint to it. It was great to be able to watch the tree grow and the leaves change over the years, and for a young boy, that was something I looked forward to each time I visited. To this day, I can still create a vivid picture of that tree and all of its colors.
If there is one thing that can trigger the memories I've had over the years at my Grandparent's house, it's the smell of matches being lit. The sulfuric smell and the odor they generate once blown out will initiate the memory of Grandpa sitting at the kitchen table and lighting his tobacco pipe.
The memories I have from Grandma and Grandpa's house will forever live on with me and they are some of my childhood. I hope that everyone gets to experience some of the things I did while visiting my grandparents.
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