Jeronn Russell

The Beach House

Normally Tracy loved being at her grandparents beach house, even in the winter. It was her favorite place to be. Staying with Grams and Pops all summer and some Christmases was her greatest joys growing up. Coming here felt like coming home, even empty, the same scents still lingered in the air of cinnamon, pipe tobacco and rose water, grams perfume. Memories rushed to the surface of laughter, adventure and family. Today those memories were crowding close and she found herself continually blinking back the burning tears that threatened to overflow. Tracy had come back to the old beach house to clean out her grandparents things. They were suddenly gone and coming to the beach house would never be the same. She looked out the big bay window that overlooked the beach. The waters were choppy and turbulent, as though they mirrored her inner turmoil.