Memories

My grandfather's house has always been an unusual place. Coming there as a girl, I held my breath, preparing to knock on the door. Large, with many rooms and stories, sometimes he could even scare. It seemed to go over the threshold and there would be no way back. But I wasn't afraid. Having heard the slow steps on that side, I could not hide a smile, and my heart was squeezing in anticipation. "Haven't you forgotten the road yet?" - so he always said. He raised me in his arms and we could not stop laughing for a long time. As a child, you don't need more, do you?

Having met, my grandfather led me to the kitchen, where herbs and spices hardly smelled noticeably, brewed wonderful tea, and I could not stop talking about everything that was happening in my life. He listened carefully to distract my attention with delicious cookies and gave advice that helps me today. We could walk for a long time in the garden near the house, which he carefully planted for the last few years. Coming as a teenager, I loved to be here alone when even thoughts blossomed. In the evenings, Grandpa liked to tell amazing stories about travel, dangers and great love that a little girl would never get bored with. Then they seemed to me fairy tales.

I began to suspect something when I found the hero of one story - an old wristwatch with characteristic marks. Succumbing to the impulse, I began to look. And I found it. Already, the big house seemed to grow larger when I met traces of his stories. I wanted to ask so many questions, but it was too late. He left quietly, and I only had scraps and hints.

Grandpa was gone, but there was his house. Large, with many rooms and stories, sometimes he could even scare. But I was not afraid, being here the more often, the older I got. I couldn't let go of the man who gave me so much. I turned the whole house around, trying to find something until I turned to my parents. They knew nothing more than mine, but my father could find the number. Grandpa's friend that he was in his stories and so often flashed in photographs. So long after, it was a lead. With a trembling hand, I dialed the number, frozen over it.