My Grandmother's House

I remember how every Sunday, all of my family used to go to my grandmother’s house to spend the whole day together. No matter what, my family was there by 1:00 pm and we left around 9:00 pm. In that house, for more than 8 years we always did the same: my grandmother cooking delicious but sometimes unhealthy dishes; my mother and aunts talking in the living room; my cousins, siblings and I playing videogames and my father and uncles playing domino games at my grandmother’s house terrace, although that, we never got bored. I remember the little kitchen where my grandmother always sat in a small chair at the end, waiting for the food to be done and the living room, that had an enormous TV for that time where we used to watch shows like: “Vecinos” or “Bailando por un sueño”. Something very important is my grandmother’s stationery shop, that was very famous around the block because of my grandmother’s attitude, full of joy that got spread with everyone who went there.  That house witnessed a lot of things, my aunts and mother marriages, graduations, the childhood of every one of my mother’s family and my father, who used to go there whenever he could. Something interesting for me is that in there, we enjoyed the evolution of videogames, from the Nintendo 64 to the Xbox 360, hearing constantly our mothers saying to us: “Stop playing please, the food is ready!”. Of course, this doesn’t mean we were always inside and not living our childhood, being that the house is next to a big avenue, it meant we could play a lot in a part of the street, from soccer to just running around, or in the house terrace, drawing and playing things like “Serpientes y escaleras” thanks to the marvelous color chalks from my grandmother’s stationery shop. In the house we also saw the evolution of ourselves, with something very traditional, a column in the middle of the house full of pen marks that showed our height change through the years. When my grandmother passed out we stopped going frequently to her house, but the memories inside of every part, every room and every object in there remain the same. We’ve built through the years a long and happy story for everything in our family, and that’s why my grandmother’s house is the most important thing in our family. Now I can understand the real meaning of weekly meetings at a relative’s house because, while I’m writing this, a lot of flashbacks come to my mind and every one of them is a good one. Meetings aren’t meant to be boring, they’re meant to reunite families and I hope to build a similar story in the house where I’m living right know.

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