I know the comfort of going to my grandparents' house every weekend. Every morning with the crack of dawn I would race into the kitchen to find my grandmother cooking her famous chocolate cookies. That remains one of my fondest memories of the many weekends spent at grandparent's house. The smell of the freshly cooked chocolate cookies was enough to drive anyone out of their deep sleep, along with fresh squeezed orange juice, gave us the needed energy to go out and start our daily routine of chores. I know as the youngest of my siblings at my grandparents' house every weekend, my task included feeding the dogs, helping with dishes, and pretty much trying to stay out of as much trouble as I possibly could.
             In my dreams the memories of my grandparents' house are vivid like a smell of my grandmother's chocolate cookies. I can still remember a big wooded dark barn and the open door to it at my grandparents' backyard. Every time I would walk into that dark barn I would choke from all of the dust that had settled in the room. As I entered that dark barn the wooden floors would slightly give way. Rusty nails poked out of the floorboards and old water stains have made designs on the walls. Woods were really rusty and at any given day this barn would collapse. There was reading table against the wall and on top of it there were some seashells settings. Most of the drawings on the wall were washed away but some were still there but fading. There was a closet at the right hand corner of the room. In the closet there was a small plastic box at the corner of the closet. Under all the
             dust name Julia was written on the top of the box. All the seashells were kept in that box. Looks and furniture of this room changed over a period of time but memories were still trapped into this barn.
             Big part of those memories was my grandparents' house and my time spent there with all my siblings. My gr
             ...