Descriptive Essay: Grandpas Place -- Descriptive Essays, Observation

granddads Place I know to take mavin last touch of fresh, clean air before I open the presence suppress door and then the worn down, chipped white wood door. I walk in, and the belong of the aroma of apples and old people suffocates me. As I walk in, the alike(p) deuce-year old cat food is right where it has been for the last half-dozen months in antecedent of the front door on the cold faded tile floor. The cat disappeared four months ago, but I guess in that location is still hope that he will come substantiate one day. I approach the sliding wooden door to enter the front living room and see some bird feed on the floor that must have been spilled the previous week along with a stack of news papers.This single story brick house was purchased by my nan and Grandpa twenty years ago. Ever since, the house has been filled with zip fastener but love and laughter. Behind the house, there are five or six tall, skinny trees that have died from disease but havent fall en to the stigmatize covered ground. Near the loose clothes line in the back cause, there are four rose bushes that need water. Dead daises and pansies from the previous summer are the main attraction in the front yard along with a five foot high metal windmill stuck in the middle of a flower garden that needs grease. The two car garage houses a huge 78 black Buick. The ol Buick hasnt been driven in a while, but my Grandpa claims that it is still in top shape. I guess my Grandpa just keeps it around to remind him of my Grandma. Next to it is a green John Deere tractor with a ripped black seat that has a politic left rear tire, but my Grandpa claims, It still runs like a champ. Next to it is the push lawnmower.Before I open the door, I eject hear the Bronco game being televised on my Grandpas 36... ...the equivalent story ab turn up so and so and how their daughters husbands brother did this and that. All this time, I just sit there and watch my Grandpa be apt telling me this story while he slops stuff out of his mouth and onto his already stained clothes. Eventually, we finish our dinner, and I clean up the kitchen.I get all of my stuff together, make a final exam check that everything is good to go, and sit on a kitchen chair. My Grandpa asks woefully if it is time to go, and I say, Yeah, with a quivering voice. So, I get up, pay up my Grandpa a hug and head out the door.I loathe leaving this place more than anything. I hate leaving my Grandpa in that house by himself. I push open the front door and breathe in the fresh night air. As I pull out of the narrow leaf covered driveway, I run across back to see my Grandpa waving at me through the vexatious storm glass windows.