I remember when I'd stay at my grandparent's house. Not because I had to, but simply because I wanted to. I remember drinking apple cider while my grandfather read to me. Sometimes I'd go grocery shopping with my grandmother, other times just staying at home and watching TV.
I remember playing with blocks and building all kinds of things. I remember my brother and I sleeping in my dad's old room.
I remember waking up to the smell of my grandfather's pancakes. They were always fantastic. I know how to make them the same way, but it doesn't taste right because he didn't make them.
I remember also staying in my aunt's old room. Something about the mirrors and dressers and balcony and rose bush made me feel like I had stepped back in time... And I liked it.
I go back there often, but it's just not the same.

I miss those days.
I miss it.
I miss him.

But even though he's gone, I know I'll never forget.