My grandpa’s country house

Photo: Young Grandma and Grandpa by the gate of their country house.

A life writing exercise dedicated to my lovely grandpa and grandma: Gilberto and Léa.

A modest four-bedroom house, a large swing, a henhouse, lots of tropical fruit trees and a swimming pool, everything made by the hands of my beloved grandfather, who dedicated part of his life to transforming a small piece of land, surrounded by nature, into the most precious country house to our family. We would spend every single weekend of our childhood running barefoot on the wet grass in the morning, eating fresh fruits on the trees, getting lost on our way to the little creek at the end of the property and hunting frogs at night, with grandpa’s torch leading us. 

We wouldn’t care about the cold water of the swimming pool, where we used to refresh ourselves after a couple of hours playing under the hot sun, which was the companion of our days there. But we would be delighted by the warmest water in the end of the day. “It’s the best time of the day for a swim”, my grandma would say, coming in her blue swimming costume, carrying a towel and followed by her inseparable dog, who always jumped into the water after her. 

The land was enormous through our child eyes. My sisters, my cousins and I wouldn’t dare to try to reach the fence without a grown-up, which was just after the orchard. Actually, I remember going there no more than twice when I was a child. The lawn between the house and the huge avocado tree was big enough for our adventures. Hide and seek, treasure hunts, ball games, flying kites and the swing – they filled our days with laughs and love. Not to mention the bespoke doll house with heart shaped window handles and the noisy hens that we used to carry like real puppies in our arms. Every time the eggs cracked, it would be an entire weekend taking care of the little chicks. 

I can still remember the strong feeling of disappointment when I went by myself for the first time to the very end of the fence and was convinced that grandpa had sold a big part of the land. I couldn’t understand that I not only had a new perspective towards it, but also had left a big part of my fantasies behind, mostly intensified by grandpa’s tales about strange creatures that would come to the property at night. 

I’ll never see a sky so full of starts as the ones I used to see in my grandpa’s country house, when we would sit on the balcony until late at night, with no lights on, listening the grown-ups talking and trying to stay awake with them. Lying down in my grandma’s arms, I would fall asleep hearing the melody of the crickets and owls, until placed in my bed, where I would dream about the next sunny day that the clean sky was already announcing to us. It would certainly be another day full of unforgettable family memories that my grandpa had created for us.