In the story, Dear Grandpa, it gives you personal experience with what happens behind closed doors. I'm writing this in hopes to make you cry and laugh, but most of all love. Just as I have. Those who live the most, they say, love the most.
To start off with, this story takes place in 2007, in high mountains. There are two houses side by side, one a small trailer home. In this home there is a mother and a father and three young children. The oldest and writer of the story is ten years old, her sister is eight and the other sister is six. The small trailer home is two bedrooms, one for the parents the other for the children. The rooms are no bigger then washrooms. There was a small kitchen with a small tile section for a dinner table, but instead holds a computer the father uses. The living room is large for a ten year olds standards. Big enough for a three cushion couch and a large TV, as wide as it is thick. The floor was large enough for a grown man to stretch out with out any trouble.
The other house, which seemed so far in distance to a small child, was actually about a thousand yards. Next door was a child's dream. The house was the size of four of their small trailers, maybe more. There were stairs which led to almost an upstairs and a down stairs house. On the upstairs it was large by its self. Most of it was a kitchen and a living room. The living room so large, a pool table sat right in the middle of it. The TV was larger then at their house and as close to a flat screen you could get in that time. The pool table had strange boxes filled with even stranger things inside them. The kitchen was large with all kinds of gadgets and new pots and pans. On the same floor was the parents room which was larger the both of the small bedrooms combined. Next to it a small bathroom. The stairs headed down, then take a right heading into the down stairs. There was a small kitchen and a large living room, which is an understatement. Straight across from the stairs was two rooms and a bathroom, this is where the boys stayed. One sixteen the other nineteen. Brothers, that never seemed to get along. The strange thing about this living room is the photos on the wall. Hundreds of naked photos from magazines covered every square inch of the wall space.
The house was strange but the people living there were even more so. They convinced the parents to move into a small trailer home so they could be closer. Later it was found out that it was not as a friendship bonding. The relationship shared was that of the negative aspect. It was drugs. The young children didn't know that quite yet, all they saw was the love for their mother and the wonder about the father who never seemed to be there.
Their father was a strange man. He had odd moods, sometimes so happy he sounded strange to his children. Sometimes so mad, he hurt their mother and hurt his children. Other times, he was indifferent to his surroundings, just white noise in the back round. This was sometimes, most of the time, he was gone.
These letters to grandpa a cry for help of a small child who couldn't find a way out. Some times the only way out, is fighting through the mess. Looking at the future and what it holds brings the present into a new light. Darkness is never dark and. Utter and alone, it's just the absence of light.
