Grandma's House

Grandma’s House was that quiet, familiar corner of my childhood that also became home to many visits from everyone in the family. The dark blue bike, slightly crooked yet parked against a low wall and looking like it was dropped in a hurry, probably belonged to a cousin making his way inside to Grandma.

It rests under the thick shade of leafy green trees, painted so loosely and softly in a semi-realistic, wispy style that it’s almost as if you can hear the wind whistling through them.
This bike at Grandma’s house is a snapshot of a simpler time. It’s a symbol of visits, stories, and moments spent in a place that always felt like home.