The attic floor was creaky and the bright sun rays were always shining dust trails through the wooden rails. The roosters were crowing in the yard, fluffing up their wings, while two wild pigeons were chasing each other in the lazy summer afternoon air. Little girl C stopped and listened; the air was still, time was generous and the days seemed to last forever...
Below her, the house her grandparents had built many years before, was just right and cozy. It was a Ranch with three rooms only and one hallway, that was always cold and drafty.
The first room was where C was sleeping with grandma M and grandpa G. A big fireplace with an old iron stove took up half of the room, and in the cold winter nights, the crackling fire was casting magical shadows on the ceiling, like the timeless dance of a lost world.
C. was listening to the comforting voices of grandma and grandpa talking about the people and the village, before she would slowly drift away in her land of dreams...
The second room was to be kept nicely, for guests and the priests that used to come and, according to the tradition, cast away the evil in any shape, seen or unseen. They always wore black long robes, and carried a long golden chain with an open cup at the end, with burning incense. The priests would sing mysterious songs that C never understood, while swinging the incense around the room. Grandma was always a step behind the priest, silent and happy. Grandpa was outside, continuing in his work... He never liked church, church was for women who needed to catch up on social life, he always said, and for priests to make good money from the women needing to catch up on social life...
Once the house was holy again, C was free to roam and explore again. The cold hallway opened into a porch with tall walls, right in the middle of the flower garden. A small path lead to a green wooden gate and finally into the big yard. Grandpa had built the gate and the small garden fence and painted it often, for he was always hard working and busy. C. loved to watch him and follow him everywhere with her endless questions. And grandpa was always happy, his eyes would shine with delight every time little C was around, and he always had the time to sit and explain the whole world to her. C loved grandpa with all her might. And she never stopped...
One question she never asked was about the last room of the house. The mysterious back room... She didn't like to go there very often and many times, she would hesitate with the tiny hand slightly trembling on the door knob. She would not enter. But once in a while, she would get very brave and walk in... The back room smelled like dried roses and Russian sage, and it was always so still and perfectly quiet. C believed the past lived in there, all the great-great-grandmas and grandpas with their endless families of unseen faces... Grandma M always told her about them in her stories, and not being around anymore, C was certain they all must be somehow hiding and living in the back room. Where else could they all be?
The room had three tall windows to the right and one tiny window to the left with the perfect view to the winding dusty country road. A huge old bed, where grandma kept hiding all kinds of secret things, including money and jewelry, with dark wood and intricate design, rested by the tiny window. Next to the bed, there was a table with old photographs, C. loved one the most. It was a photo of grandma's sister, whom she had never met, but who was so beautiful. To the right of the table, there was the mysterious wardrobe, which always scared C the most, for it would squeak and creak and make all sorts of frightening sounds every time she dared to open it. And at the end, as she was closing its door, breathless, the huge mirror on the wardrobe door looked back at her, even more frightening... Every brave exploration of the back room always ended with a sudden rush outside and eventually in grandpa's arms, who always laughed and said "You went there again, didn't you, you, grandpa's silly girl?"
And grandpa seemed like the summer air, always there, timeless and bright... Little girl C loved him even more. And she never stopped...
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