Submitted by Thoughtful on January 13, 2008

• Category: Miscellaneous
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My Grandparent'S House

My Grandparents House
As a child, visits to my Grandparents’ house were always special times. In that old, country house on the six-acre patch of land where my father and uncle were raised, I learned valuable lessons of love, life, and the meaning of family.
I used to think that Grandma had a spatula permanently connected to her hand, because she cooked continuously. The smell of fried eggs, bacon, and toast wafting through the morning air brushed our young faces with smiles and put an eager bounce in our hungry steps. Lunchtime was just as amazing as breakfast, with big pots of spaghetti and Grandma’s homemade sauce, and then chocolate no-bake cookies for dessert.
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