The old house, the house of my grandparents,and in later years, my parents, sits quietly in our yard. It has been on this property for many years; maybe I should say that our house sits in its yard. Our house stands where the old garage, of my grandparents, stood. In my mind's eye, it was a huge old building - but, in fact, it was wide enough for only one old vehicle. I was young, so I don't remember much, but I remember that it was an unpainted building with a dirt floor. I remember the old school bus, with the yellow body removed, that sat inside.
In those days, the school buses were owned by the ones that drove them. My grandfather, and at least one of my uncles, drove the bus over roads that were practically impassable in the winter, or after a rain. The bus was also used for the family's transportation. My grandfather died when I was 9 years old, so I have scant memories of him. I do remember one summer when I must have been about 5 years of age, coming to their house. Grandpa and Granny took me, in the old bus with the yellow body removed, to the creek to wade. I remember bouncing along between them, on the hard seat, hair blowing in the wind. I thought it was so neat to ride in a vehicle that had no top.
The old garage, the old bus, and my grandparents have long been gone - but the memories remain still.