There is one place that I always enjoy going to. In rain or shine, on a weekend or weekday it did not matter to me. This is a place where I grew up ever since I was born, or actually I should say it was also my first home. This is a place where all my family would get together for all different types of events like holidays, birthdays, and just any excuse for the family to get together. That place is my grandparent’s old home, but that place is gone now. The place was sold and now the only thing that is left are memories.
My grandparent’s home was located in this little town named Long Eaton. The house was a little white, semi-detached house with a deep red tiled roof. This house has been around since my grandparents emigrated from India, and my father was only seven years old. It was a humble home, with only three bedrooms; although the downstairs extension was put on much later, did increase the size a little. This house contained a small kitchen, and a living room. It did although have a nice front and back yard but they were also small. In the back yard my grandpa had it filled with different types of plants and crops. Mostly too tropic to grow, but no one ever attempted to tell him so, so he never gave up trying. The back of the house looked like a jungle. And he also had a chicken house and a dog that was solid black named ‘Kutha’ – which when translated from Hindi meant dog, which I always thought was highly original. This is also where my grandparents’ raised their six kids. When we would visit everybody would forget about their day to day troubles – that’s probably what I miss most about that house.
