House Number B/63...Friday Essential

I have come back to my ancestral house. I have returned to the scenes of my childhood and in my mind's eye I see; coconut oiled hair flowing down my grandmother's back, the keys of her household jangling on a wooden key holder; watching my grandfather, sitting with me on the piano, holding my little fingers and teaching me an ancient rhyme, long broad  panels covered with her self-stitched burgundy red silk curtains, showing royalty; an ivory lamp shade murmuring the soft love stories of my parents, with my garden's popular flowers, decorated on the coffee table, laying on the couch watching the things kept out in the sun to dry, along with sliced mango and lime for pickles.

Now, as I sit on that same couch, looking back across the years, surrounded by cheerful people, children, as the scent of winter flowers overwhelm my senses, I sighed; the golden oldie days.

(written for Friday writing essential)