“Do you see that farmhouse over there?”
“Do you know whose house that is?”
“Nah! It looks like a ghost house. So old and ugly! Why are we here?”
His words shook me. Though I know it in my heart that there is no chance that my eighteen year old grandson would be aware of this place and the value it holds, I could neither help the sad sigh that escaped my lips nor the angry tears that tried to escape my eyes.
“Dear! It is no ghost house!”
“But grandma, my friends have told me that no one dares to visit this place. Some old man died and the house is haunted ever since”
“Remember this dear, Never ever believe someone without knowing for a fact if their claims are true.
“This place is your grandfather’s gift to me. This house holds so much love and beautiful memories. Your dada was born and raised here.”
“Woah grandma! hold on! Are you saying this haunted house is ours? And the man who died here is..”
“But, why is this in rundown condition?”
“Because your dada and mamma no longer wanted this old house. They think that this is no up-and-coming place like where we are staying now. Your dada is very practical. More than memories, he values worthiness in terms of money.”
“Oh Grandma! If this place means so much to you, I’ll help renovate this place. I have some college funds kept aside, by working during the past three summers.”
“Oh dear! Why would you?” , I couldn’t speak further. The selfless love I was receiving from my grandson had rendered me speechless.
“Because I want to”. As my grandson smiled and hugged me, I saw the resemblance of my husband in his twinkling eyes and dimpled cheeks.
I patted his back and gave our house a wishful glance.