My grandparent's apartment

I often think to myself, how is it possible to have so strong memories about a place where I've
last been more than 10 years ago. How is it possible to have memories full of life when the
main actors of those memories are not alive anymore? How is that possible? I don't know if
it's some kind of magic going on here, but the mental images inside my head are so clean and
fresh like all those things have happened yesterday. Like I was yesterday sitting with my
grandparents and having fun with them in their little apartment.

And when I say „little“ apartment, I really mean that. Actually, I don't know if I've ever been
into a smaller apartment and a smaller building. I adored that building. It had only two floors
and a basement. On the first floor, there were some old neighbors whose names I've
forgotten, but I do remember that feeling when the neighbor from apartment A1 hears my
steps and opens his old wooden doors, just to give me candy and his kind smile. Next to him,
in apartment A2, there was that not-so-kind older lady, whom I rarely spoke to. I avoided her
because the space in front of her apartment used to scare me. She was a fan of collecting the
most unnecessary things that you can imagine. So, in front of her apartment, you could see
old broken vases, empty beer bottles, some dry flowers, etc. All those things seemed creepy
and because of that, I used to walk fast while passing that „creepy“ part of the building. But,
while I was walking the stairs to my grandparents, even dough the stairs were big and not so
easy to climb, I always felt some kind of relief. I knew that the minute I enter my
grandparent's place- I am safe. There, nothing bad can happen to me. There- all my wishes
will be fulfilled, and I will be the happiest kid alive. And that would happen every single
time.

The doorbell was placed pretty high for a small person that I used to be, I was pretty short as
a kid. So, I had a small problem: How to inform my grandparents that I'm here and that they
need to open the doors for me? Well, in my „safe place“, they thought about that too. Next to
those big, old wooden mahogany doors, there was a small chair. So, I've used to move that
small wooden chair to the doors and I would climb it. By standing on that chair, I was able to
touch that doorbell that had a strong, but yet calming sound. After hearing that doorbell
sound, my grandparents would open the doors for me, and let me in my „safe place“.

The fun would begin in their small hallway. While I was taking my shoes and my jacket off, I
would stare at that amazing mirror. From that perspective, it seemed to me that the mirror is
even bigger than the hallway. The thing that I've loved the most was the reflection that I've
seen in that mirror- my grandmother, my grandfather, and me, all of us with enormous smiles
on our faces. A lot of hugs and kisses would happen in that hallway and then the granny
would send me to their small bathroom. She would say: „Wash your hands, the lunch is
ready“, and her words would echo in that small bathroom, covered with wonderful gray tiles.
She always had to repeat that „lunch invitation“ because I was always too busy enjoying
walking on that soft, maroon bathroom carpet that she made by herself.

To avoid hearing granny calling me for the third time, I used to go to the living room. There,
the small, old wooden table was prepared for lunch. Granny used to put her finest tablecloth
with one small stain that she wisely covered with the salt cellar. She thought that we are not
noticing the stain, and we always behaved like we don't see it. I don't remember the food that
we were eating but I do remember that the food was always fresh and tasty. Granny and
Granpa maybe were not the richest persons, but, in their home, there was an order. The dishes
at their home maybe were old and not so expensive, but they were always flawlessly clean.
And from there I've adopted one extremely important life lesson, which is that you can live a
decent life, even if you don't have a lot of money.

After we've eaten, granny would tidy up the table and pour some homemade blackberry juice
for me and grandpa. I adored drinking anything from „my“ glass. It was a big old glass with a
beautiful girl on it. I remember starring into that glass and imagining that, when I grow up,
I'm gonna dye my hair, just like the girl from the glass.

But, my imagination about coloring my hair was often interrupted with my grandpa's voice
saying „Open the drawer and bring them“. By „them“ he was referring to the cards. So, I
would, with a huge effort, open up that old, wooden, wobbly drawer and I would draw out
that little plastic bag, where my grandpa was keeping the cards. Grandpa and I would then sit,
drink blackberry juice and play the cards until granny would finish cleaning the mess from
the lunch.

After that, if the weather was sunny, we would go out to that little terrace. The terrace was so
little that once we're out, we are not able to move, we could just stand there, and watch the
wonderful environment. Although the view was nice, I wasn't such a fan of that terrace
because there were sharp metal bars and I've constantly hit my leg on them, so every terrace
visit gave me a bruise.

But that bruise and that small pain were negligible compared to those amazing moments that
I've experienced while spending time in that wonderful place, in my „safe place“.