I’m up at my grandparents’ house, in a small little town you’ve never heard of. My grandpa built the house I’m sitting in. I’m using my grandma’s wireless internet–she’s had a computer since they first came into existence.
Outside, there is one duck swimming in their pond. It’s the only left, even though there were seven little ducklings a while ago. But this one is a survivor. It has a tuft of feathers coming out of the back of it’s head.
There is a shed outside. This shed was built very recently, and my resourceful grandpa, who is over 70 years old, built this shed by himself. He paid only the cost of a few nails to make it, and got the rest of the material for free.
There is also a lot of old machinery outside. My grandpa likes the dump–he finds a lot of stuff there. A lot of the stuff he gets in working order and uses.
They have a really small, old Toyota truck. The back of it is painted green. Their old, ornery dog, PC, died in the truck. My grandma loved that dog, even when he growled and tried to bite. Their ducks lived in the bed of the truck when they were really young. It’s gone out on many camping trips in many different places.
My grandpa is standing there with pants that are too short, a hat, and a blue shirts with stains on it. My grandma is sitting on the couch, her legs crossed, slowly chewing on her lunch, talking to my dad.
We’re going to go paint the shed now, so I have to go help.
I feel happy here.