I can still remember the smell of pine needles and wild flowers that perfume the air around

a small little homestead.

Like something had a snow white, grandma's quaint little vlog cabin puffing up smoke signals

from its old stone chimney would appear enchanting.

However, the impenetrable wall of woodland and circling it was eerily still and silent,

with very little light peeping through the evergreen.

Up until that point in my life, I'd never stayed with grandma.

She'd always come to visit us and stay in my parents' home.

But due to my folks separating and on the verge of a messy divorce, I was sent to spend

some time with her.

Whilst they worked out, whatever it was they had to work out.

Upon stepping out of the car, my small converse sank in the wet muddy pathway and squashed

the way up to the front door.

The porch was covered in funny-looking dream-catches and wind chimes made with crystals, adding

a little more magic to the place.

But still, I would have much prefer to have been at home, playing out with my friends.

All the negativity I had towards the place though quickly disappeared as she opened the door.

I remember the smell of freshly brewed tea poured out from the kitchen behind her and

wrapped around me as she hugged me tight.

Her embrace was warm like hot cocoa on a snowy winter's day and she was quick to assure

me that everything was going to be fine and that she was going to look after me and we

were going to have so much fun.

...