It is a quaint, cozy, welcoming, old-fashioned one story house with brown shutters; it has grandma and grandpa written all over it. It is where I always wanted to be when I was growing up. It’s where I want to be in this stage of my life, sometimes. It represents the past; now I am making new beginnings. All of our Thanksgivings and Christmases and Easters were spent there with warmth, love, laughter, happiness and most importantly, health. The darkness, also known as cancer, intervened and they had to sell their house and move closer to my family. All the summers spent there, running around all the beautiful acres of land in the front and back yards and the watermelon spitting seed contests will never be forgotten. Their home was my refuge, my place of comfort; the sumptuous smells of all grandma’s cooking and grandpa’s popcorn at night watching our favorite shows were the best. The hunter green swing on the front porch was my buddy, especially while eating homemade vanilla ice cream. There is only one “house” that I call home and it is that one. Grandma and Grandpa’s house in Huntsville was our whole families’ home away from home, my HOME.