An Ode To Gramma's House

I have many things I should be writing about, things that should take a higher priority than these ramblings. Things like graduation, summer time, work, and next year. Next year will be a chapter of it's own, because I really do have a lot to tell you about that. But, for the sake of tasty writing and nostalgia, I'm going to write about Minnesota instead. For the past three days I've been hanging out in the suburbs and shopping malls nestled in the lush green jungle that is Minnesota. We (my mother, Walter, and I) are staying with my grandparents, as usual. Unfortunately, this will be the last night I will ever see the house that is so dear to me. My grandparents are moving. They don't want to, but this house really is too big for two people who really shouldn't be using stairs anymore. So I have to soak it in, and remember it forever. And I really will miss it. The doors that mysteriously open when the slightest draft blows through, the super fun laundry shoot, the screened porch lovingly built by my grandpa, the basement with more food than a small grocery store. I will miss playing cards with my cousins on the porch until midnight, and eating popsicles until our teeth stained, the big birch tree in the front yard that we all drew pictures and initials on, and the countless mornings of sugared cereal and cartoons. I will miss The Hoopdidoop very much. The Hoopdidoop is a character invented by my grandpa, Frank, who is similar in terror to the bogey man, and whose territory is limited to the cold caverns of the basement. I will miss everything about that house, and no matter who moves into it when they move out, in my heart and memories, it will always be gramma's house. And lastly, to The Hoopdidoop: Thank you for sparing my life on countless trips to the basement, and though we never met, you will cherished in my memories forever. Happy haunting.      -mads