I love being in my grandparents’ house. Their home feels like a page out of a happy children’s book. From old cookie jars, to a playful dog, a lot of pampering and the smell of slowly cooked meals, it feels like a haven even for the grown-up grandchildren like me. I visit my grandparents often and yesterday was no different. I reached their home early afternoon.
My grandparents are a social couple and as usual they had their friends over for dinner yesterday. The afternoon in their house was a bright one. The house vibrated with the energy of anticipated guests, while the aroma from a pot of slowly cooking food assured preparation.
I sat on the kitchen table reading. In between pages I glanced out at the garden outside the kitchen window. My grandparents were out there taking a stroll hand-in-hand. They laughed as they talked. My grandfather often reached out in between conversation to tuck a loose strand of my grandmother’s hair behind her ear. When they finished talking I saw that my grandfather planted a kiss on my grandma’s forehead. My grandmother stroked his back and both went their ways. My grandfather resumed his gardening while grandma came into the kitchen. This after 40 years of marriage, four children and many grandchildren later is my grandparents’ love story.