I've been spending the past two nights at my grandpa's place. He just moved out of his house of 31 years today. Ever since I was born, my mom took me to his place and I could recall spending most of my childhood there. I remember that he used to cook a lot of food, and that I cut my finger when I inserted my finger into the fan.
I remember he bought me a blue bike with training wheels, and that my sister whined for one too. He watched me grow up from a willful boy to a nonchalant teenager, and finally to a responsible, albeit aimless young man. All these while I still see him as a grumpy old man, whose eyes have seen so much of this world.
I was filled with emotions as I parted with his humble abode. The one place I could go to revisit my childhood is now gone, and with that the innocence of simpler days and simpler mind will forever elude me. I could tell he was sad to go, but what more can he do? I find solace in him being with family, and someone at home to keep him company.
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