by reddit user chewingskin
Before you read these moments from my life, I’d like to apologize for the language, but I’m trying to recall it from the exact detail.
During the months of June, July, and August, I spent many hot summers of my childhood at my Grandmother’s house further west on the island of Cape Breton. The forest was plentiful, the plains were a vibrant green, and my Grandmother’s house was a rickety old two-story that was built sometime in the 50’s and looked like it didn’t belong.
Despite its shortcomings, my childhood summers spent here were some of the best I ever had. There were no other children to play with for the next few miles towards town, but I made my own fun running through fields of grass and smelling flowers in my Grandma’s garden. I can still recall the smell of my Nanna’s butterscotch muffins wafting through an open window, sweet and heavenly and beckoning me inside. I can still remember the sound of cicadas and a warm breeze brushing my skin. I can still remember my Grandma’s face watching me from underneath the porch step, smiling with all her teeth and calling me to come inside.