I had wanted to see my grandparents’ house one last time before it was demolished. So when my flight was canceled, I couldn’t stop crying. Tomorrow my grandparents’ house would be nothing but rubble.
I must have fallen asleep at the airport—I must be dreaming… because I’m looking up at the yellow house.
I hear laughter and see me, my brother, and cousins as children playing in the woods.
And then I turn, and there are my beautiful grandparents, smiling at me.
“We’re here, we’ll always be here,” they say.