The attic was dusty, dark and crammed with things from different stages of our lives. As I laid my hand over a fusty pile of antique folders, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. My eyes caught an old album shrouded in dust. Adoringly, I wept all the dust over it and admiring the ethereal echoes of the past. Hours and hours passed and I'm still swiping through the photos. Until this happened. As I saw that summer vacation photo; I was suddenly thrown back in time...
It's 12 years ago. A radiant halo crowns the landscape. My grandfather is going now to harvest some zesty lemons. We can all smell the aroma of my grandma's freshly picked spices. After lunch, my brother and I are going to discover some places in here.
I'm roaming with my brother on the cobblestone path that leads to the shed. Grandpa always takes care of the shed, and we weren't allowed to enter it since we were young. But now, we have the opportunity to enter it as its not closed as grandpa usually does. My eyes' pupils rolls into my brother's eyes, we both know exactly what the other is thinking, sharing an unspoken silent understanding.
My hand grips the familiar, worn handle, and a thrill of both excitement and unease runs through me. The door swings open easily, its hinges giving a soft, familiar creak that fills the quiet. A subtle mix of scents: wood, earth, and something metallic.
Inside, there is wooden crates, rusty farm tools and other old clutters. My eyes glance something that catches my eyes. In the corner of the wooden table, there was a dusty, old leather notebook. My brother's curiosity catches the notebook and read it out loud.
"To my dear grandchildren, if you have this now, it's my legacy after my death. This contains all my life lesson, knowledge, adventures and testaments, so keep han-"
"Come and drink some lemonade!" My grandpa yelled.
I am feeling my stomach dropping as I hear the footsteps coming towards us. Instantly, we return everything to it's own place that no human eye can detect something wrong. And we are now laughing and rushing so nobody catches us.
As the laughter of my brother echoed in my ears, the sunlight streaming faded, and I felt the weight of the reality settle back in.
I remember those moments very well as if they were yesterday. I also remember how I kept thinking of the journal that night. However the journal now is with me (as my grandpa passed away). In addition, I'm missing those days, missing my grand parents wxho had passed away, missing those adventures with my brother, and missing the farmhouse. The attic in my opinion now stands as a guardian of memories.
