Grandpa's House

Today I walked into my Grandpa's house, somewhere I haven't been in around 10 or more years. We haven't really gone there since my Grandmother died. We used to go there all the time. It was weird to see that nothing had really changed. This mirror of my grandmothers was still lying on a table, these plastic raccoons I used to love to play with were still lining the entry and the kitchen hadn't been changed or updated in years. The carpet and smell of the house were the same except there was a shrine almost to my Grandma in the corner by the door to the backyard where there used to hang her aprons. The picture frames were the same--even ones that she had put up because they were cut, not because they had anyone from our family in then. It was weird to think that this house just never changes and instead is ever constant.