Last night I started on a short story easy enough right? It revolves around my grandmas house now and growing up. It talks about what it looks like to a stranger now and how I see it. As I wrote I was shocked at how much I recalled. I know that house inside and out its crazy. Then again not really cause that was the only place Ive called home. When things got bad at home Nana and grams would welcome me with open arms. They loved having me as company and I loved just being with them. It was perfect for all involved after I left school I spent months there at a time. After they passed we sold the house and I moved away for a year. I count myself lucky I didn't have to see it cold and empty. Writing it brought back so many happy memories. Deep down I was sad I'd never be able to make another there. What else that got me is that my last memory was a sad one. It was hard just imagining that place empty you know? I won't lie to you I cried pretty much the whole time I was writing. Once I got to the memories part it got a little harder. When I got to the dining room though I had to stop. It got too much for me and I couldnt take it. That's where all my favorite memories are. Was that dining room and I just had to thinking about all of the times. That was where I realized who my real family is. When I finish it I'll put it up here so you can see what I'm talking about.