We pulled up to their home and once again I was filled with that familiar feeling. That feeling you get when you visit your grandparents. I'm unsure whether its nostalgia or its just your nose adjusting to that dusty, smoky smell of their home. Whatever it is, it feels good.
My Grandfather showed us his latest artworks. I love that there are people in my family as talented as he. His passion burns bright and has never been extinguished over his life. He took me around the house, like he always does, and showed me his fondest pieces and told me the stories behind them. We chatted about his days in the mines and about how dangerous it was down there but noone seemed to ever bother. They just did what they had to do. My nan, like clockwork, finds a time to show me a trophy she won when she was about my age. She won a beauty pageant in her old, local town and even though she's shown me this trophy a 100 times before, I don't mind. She is so proud of it and I am proud of her.
Sometimes I admire pride. I admire how some people can be so passionate for their art and even though they don't say how proud they are of themselves with their words, you can see it in their eyes. It is a beautiful thing.
We spent the rest of the afternoon laughing over Grandad's
As we left, I waved goodbye to their wrinkled faces that smiled back at me. I don't get to see my family often, but it's nice to know that they are there, scattered around the world, without whom my existence wouldn't be so. Such a wonderful thought.