My dream house

My granddad’s house:

Very few memories stay and what stayed there actually classified as very fond. My childhood was spent at my granddad’s house because my mother who was working never could trust a professional baby sitter or a nanny. She was a highly qualified woman and she wanted to spend her time with her kids and doing up her home.

Dad was adamant that she work:

Dad was a stickler for discipline and he believed that everyone must positively contribute to the society. Dad wanted mum to work not for any economic benefits to him and the family but to help her become a more confident person. My mother thus practiced at the Bar and left us with our grandmother.

My grandmother volunteered to baby sit:

Those were the days when life was simple and my granny was done with raising her own children. She immediately jumped at the prospect of having us with her and thus the arrangement was made. Mum left us early in the morning with a pair of clothes and some toys and books to browse and picked us up on her way home!

The house of my dreams:

At that impressionable age, my grand’s house was an adventure to me. The wooden stairs, the wooden ceiling and the wooden floor gave me a feeling that I was in a jungle. A lot of make- believe games that we played there is still vivid in my memory. We used to roam around the house as if we never feared anything. The house had always meant so much to me.

I own my dream house now:

After my grandparents passed away and we moved away from the place, we never went back for more than 18 years. The memories however never faded away and I was always transported to the days when I thought about it.

Then one day I decided I had to own it and set out. The owner of the house was also getting older and he was glad to part it to me at a reasonable rate. He said that the house meant a lot to him. if only he could understand how much more it meant to me!