At first....Mature

I am always pleased when news of visiting Grandfather arises. His small house in the forest is delightful and he tells the most wonderful stories. I can't even begin to describe Grandfather's vast collection of butterflies that he has dedicated an entire room to.

My father thinks otherwise. He says that no person could live in such solitude and still keep their sanity. My father's suspicions of my grandfather cause a heavy and tense atmosphere when they occupy the same room. He could never understand Grandfather like I do. The peace, the quiet, the smell of clean air all surrounds that house. Sunlight shining through the trees into the windows add to the serenity. He's a tidy man and keeps things in order, most of the time. Grandfather spends his days studying the butterflies he has captured, and then tries to gain more.

Mother never states much of an opinion. She stays quiet and somewhat grave upon these visits. She almost seems fearful. I just ignore these things. I know that they are just afraid of something different and my grandfather is definitely different.

The car slows as we pull into the dirt driveway beside Grandfather's house. As always, I am the first one out of the vehicle and onto the steps. Mother and Father somber along behind me. Sometimes I wonder if they only come here because of me. The door in front swings open and Grandfather is standing there, his white and gray mustache wrinkling up with a smile.



I wrap my arms around him and he returns the hug. It's been a year or more since the last time I saw him.

"You've grown so tall. And you've cut your hair!"

My dark brown hair used to reach the small of my back but now resided a few inches below my shoulder. I smiled at my grandfather.

"Do you like it?"

"You look beautiful."

As I looked past him into the house, my smile began to fade. Their were broken lamps and picture frames. Chairs were turned over and objects that had fallen and broken were scattered everywhere.

I looked back at my grandfather, searching for an answer, but he was staring at my parents. Dad held a suspicious glare. Mother just stared at the ground.

The End

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