Grandma Alice’s Farmhouse

The farmhouse stood tall, its brick walls holding generations of laughter and love. The porch was a place for whispered dreams, where summer breezes carried the scent of wildflowers and fresh-cut hay. Inside, the floors creaked with the weight of footsteps both past and present, and the kitchen was always warm, filled with the comforting smells of home-cooked meals.

Through bright summers and harsh winters, the house remained, a constant presence against the ever-changing world. It was more than just a building; it was a keeper of stories, a witness to childhood adventures and quiet moments of reflection.

Then, one day, fire took it away. The walls crumbled, the memories held in wood and stone reduced to ash. But no flame could erase the love it once sheltered. The farmhouse still stands, not in fields of green, but in the heart of those who loved it. And there, it will remain—untouched by time, forever home.