As a child, most of my days were spent at my grandparent’s house. They owned close to two acres of land and my mother worked fulltime, leaving this property as a playground for my older sister, cousin, and I during the day. There was an endless amount of activities, and there was never a moment of boredom. We were free to roam the entire two acres.
Everyday

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we were dropped off in the same place; by the big oak tree that was in front of the house. Looking up at the gigantic tree, the question of how something could grow to be so big continued to boggle my mind. On clear days we would climb as far up as we could and sit on the outstretched branches. The wind would blow through our hair and we would giggle as the branches reached out and tickled us. My cousin would pretend to broadcast our own radio station while my sister and I sang the tunes that would be played. For those few moments we could be whatever we wanted, from a radio broadcaster to a famous singer. On the climb down I would remember what it was like to be small again, and as I reached the ground I would stare back up and smile.
Around the back of the house there was an open field. To the left there was a huge rusted bus, which proved to provide for hours of entertainment. My grandparents had ten kids, which is what they used the bus for long before I was born; it was now no longer running but they had decided to keep it for storage. Climbing up the stairs to the inside was quite a challenge. One of the steps was missing and being so little it was quite a jump to the next one. My sister, the oldest, would jump across first followed by my more brave cousin. She was the same age as I was but seemed to have gotten the tall gene in our family. Then I would carefully lean forward as they helped pull me up to the next step. There were two rows of seats inside the bus. Green cloth covered them, which was beginning to peel off around the corners. If I stood on the seats, I could reach the overhead compartments. They were filled with boxes of old clothes and toys that had been left behind. Rummaging through them I would imagine what it was like to be one of ten kids. I remembered my mother telling me stories of how she would have to share her clothes with her sisters; and I, only having an older sister, always got new clothes. I tried on the torn pieces of clothing and pranced around the bus with them on. The toys were anything but new, but they were new to us. I would dust off the stuffed animals and broken dolls and set each of them up around the ledge that surrounded the interior. My sister would jump in the driver seat and announce over the broken speaker,
“Everyone please take your seats, our departure will be in five minutes.”
And my cousin and I would jump in the seats and fasten our seatbelts tightly. I would look over at my cousin and she would smile and grab my hand.
“We are now departing to the jungle of South Africa.”
We spent hours taking tours of South Africa and pointing out the many animals that we found. And of course, we always ended up right back where we started. We would then place the toys back into the boxes and I would take off the clothes I had temporarily been wearing. My sister would jump back down the steps, then my cousin, and me into their arms.
Somebody always yelled,
“I’ll beat you to the well!”
And we would take off racing across the field to the other end where a wishing well stood over a small oval shaped fishpond. I never got there first, but it didn’t matter. We would collapse next to the well one by one, gasping for air and laughing at the same time. Sometimes we would just lie there. There was a patch of soft green grass that almost felt like silk surrounding the entire area. The smell of sweet honey suckle blew across our faces and it was always shady and cool, which was a nice break from the Texas sun. If we were thirsty, there was a bucket attached to a rope that led to the bottom of the well. It took the three of us to wind the metal handle around again and again to get the bucket from the bottom of the well to the top. Once it reached the top we would cup our hands together and take turns drinking the fresh cold water. Sometimes, when it was really hot we would roll up our pant legs and wade in the icy fishpond. The fishpond was full of sparkling fish that would catch our attention for long whiles at a time. All of us took turns trying to remember the names we had given each of the fish the day before, of course their names were never the same.
Most of our time was spent outside, but when the sun began to go down we would race to the comfort of the inside. Inside seemed almost as big as the outside. There was a living room, where my grandparents spent most of their time, which had an old flowered couch and a television that occupied the room. To the left of living room there was a hallway that led to a few small rooms. These room were some of our aunts and uncles old rooms. They had bunk beds and chests of toys lining the walls, but other than that were quite empty. They looked as though they hadn’t been touched in years. To the right of the house there was my grandparent’s bedroom. My grandmother collected dolls and they seemed to take up most of the room. She use to tell us that her mother collected them before her and she would soon pass them on to our mothers who would then pass them down to us. We were allowed to hold one doll each and we would take turns holding the other’s dolls.
Straight to the back of the house there was a kitchen, which was filled with old cookbooks and spices. It wasn’t a very big room but my grandfather told us it was filled with lots of love. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t smell the warm scent of cookies or cake coming from the small room. To them everything they cooked was made with love and when we ate their food we would be filled with it. So whenever they cooked we gladly gobbled up every last bit.
Continuing through the kitchen there was a back room. It had three doors that led to three different rooms. The lighting never worked so there was a dim glow from the lights in the kitchen. The doors to these rooms were always closed, but never locked. Behind one door, there was nothing but stuffed animals. My grandmother could not bear to throw away any of her kids toys away so she compiled them into this small room. Entering into the world of the stuffed animals was always interesting. We would jump and bound from each pile and claim a pile for ourselves. We would then name our territory and continue on playing as if we owned our own kingdoms. For that little while we were queens and princesses of the stuffed animal world.
In the next room there was an old piano in the middle. Surrounding the piano there were mounds of miscellaneous objects. Every time we entered this room we would leave with a new treasure. Sometimes I would find an almost intact jewelry box, and other times a small gold necklace that was missing a charm. No matter how torn or broken our treasure was we would still brag to each other about what each of us had found.
In the third room there were stacks and stacks of boxes. It was a maze to get through to the back of the room, and we never knew what we were going to find underneath the lid of each box. Sometimes we would split up and find ourselves playing hide and go seek without even realizing it; each of us emerging with a different trinket from a newly opened box.
No matter what we found in the house and no matter where we went outside, we did it together, the three of us. When it was time for us to go home we would look at each other and grin. We would give my cousin a hug and then my sister and I would leave, thinking all the way home of the fun I had that day. My sister would then put her arm around me as I slowly drifted off to sleep.
Standing in front of the house I was almost afraid to enter, scared of what I might find beyond the tall wooden doors. The house was now abandoned and the yard was no longer full of life. As I turned away from this now lifeless place, I felt the warmth of a hand grabbing mine, and then another on my other hand. I looked up to see my sister and my cousin, the three of us all grown up. We smiled at each other placing each of our hands on the doorknob, and I felt the warmth coming back to the house. I looked behind us, and the yard glistened with life once again.

JF