Grandfather's Hous
Grandfathers House
His house, an edifice of dilapidated wood, reminds me of age. The white siding showed evidence of neglect. Paint chips had fallen off and collected on the window ledge and shudders, leaving small patches of wood showing. The shudders were brown and rough, like that of the bark of an old tree. Hanging askew, they gave the impression of experience. Before the front entrance stood a moss enclosed porch. The moss hung off the porch like motionless waves of the sea. Mounted in the porch stood a cast iron rail, while crooked, it still displayed the same strength as though it were new. A rickety old mailbox was erected next to the porch. The post had decayed from so many years of weathering; it amazed me that it still endured. The numbers on the mailbox were reminiscent of the seemingly ages that he'd been living there. As I recollect, they had always been there, each crudely dangling by their own minute nails. Each number showed signs of, long-since-faded,......
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Approximate Pages: 4 (250 words per double-spaced page)
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