Lilacs in the Spring

Lilacs in the Spring. Blooming, casting its sweet aroma. Creaking wood on the stairs. I pass by, the sounds of home to me. Coming and going - blooming, bustling life. Laughter and laundry.Grandpa on the couch. These were all constants in this big life filled house. The Matriarch always held a smile. I sit and she rubs my head for a while. Her pleasant demeanor set the tone. It was the place we called home. That big house on the hill holds so many memories - still. I can see the lilacs blowing in the breeze. The private drive, Mrs. McClusky's. The winter months sledding, skating on the pond. In warmer days riding bikes, taunting the summer kids that didn't belong. I can still smell the salty air and feel the breeze in my hair. We'd play for hours, never had a care. We were happy. Life was simple then.