A red house by the beach full of memories.

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It was about seven meters wide, and sixteen meters long. In total, it stood approximately fifteen feet high and was painted a bright fire-truck red on the façade, and beige with a hint of gray on the sides and back of it. It also had three rectangular glass panels on the façade, sitting parallel to one-another and standing vertically. This solid object had a solid brown wooden panel beside the glass panels that could swing backwards, and copper numbers on the front of it. This object also had a terracotta watertight pyramid sitting on top, with layers appearing similar to the scales of a fish.What I have just described to you was my grandparents' past home. It was positioned four hundred meters from the beach on the corner of a tight house block, with a street designed for horse carriages, which has been diverted into a 'one-way street' to keep up with the modern way of transport.This red house of small proportions holds many childhood memories for me, and my family.One memory of mine in particular is of when I was approximately ten, perhaps eleven years of age - I had just bought (after saving my pocket money for almost a year) an adorable tiny bundle of fluff that I had just named Penelope (a character from the Walt Disney book, 101 Dalmatians) Tumbles (because she was amazingly very clumsy, even for a puppy) Precious (the breeders called her Precious, as she was their absolute favorite) and Carroll (my last name from my father's side, as she was my baby girl of canine-like appearance and adoption, of course!).I brought my new Blue Heeler puppy to introduce her to my grandparents - they thought she was the sweetest little thing that they had ever laid their eyes on (obviously since the birth of myself...)!At that time and age, my grandfather was extremely frail; he was eighty-five years old, which was just twenty years younger than the red house full of my, and my family's memories.My grandfather would walk around very slowly using an old beige coloured, and broken broom stick for support, and because he had lost a large amount of weight from the effects of cancer and loss of muscle mass from not being able to do a lot of walking, my grandfather had to hold his gray cotton trousers up with his free hand.I loved my grandfather deeply, but we never had the opportunity to have a real conversation because he spoke only Greek, and I spoke only English- although we did still manage to have a relationship, and get our points across by pointing at things, and knowing the words 'yes!' and 'no!' in each other's languages!I can remember my grandfather walking around with trousers in one hand dragging his feet with slippers half on/half off, along the floor calling out 'BLAHHHHCK BLLAAHHHHCK ELA ETHO!!!' ('Ela etho' is Greek for 'come here') to my puppy as she bounced with absolute pure...

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