And suddenly,
everything is the way it used to be.
Sitting on my grandmas couch, my feet not touching the floor. There’s a looney tunes blanket under me, one that’s known many kids. The natural wood table with a puzzle half finished, I’ll probably continue it later with a bowl of snacks and an 80s cartoon on the tv. It’s big and old, the type of tv that sizzles and cracks. Little fingers buzzing when they touch the screen, being told to sit farther away so I don’t hurt my eyes. There’s a bowl of cookies on the fire place, the one that’s never used. I’d help make the batch, pouring chocolate chips into the big mixer. Dumping out a big box of LPS and MLP toys, making stories for hours alone. Borrowing pajamas that once belonged to my aunt, curling up in the silk sheets of my bed with my favourite teddy bears. My grandma would tuck all of us in. Sometimes sneaking in at night to check, watching me with love. Feeling loved
How I wish I could sleep over at my grandparents house again
