He was returning home. The smell of the grapes on the vines in the yard gently welcomed him. The light green grapes were quietly sitting on the branches, some hiding behind the leaves, some popping out. His eyes caught some shiny yellow ones and then got attracted to the little flowers near the doorstep.
He jumped over the steps, unlocked the door and entered. The cool air of the hall greeted his skin. He sensed the well-known smell of cleanliness, shoe polish and childhood. The smell was reassuring: some things never changed and had stayed the same during the last few decades.
He went to the kitchen and looked thorough the big window. There was grandma's courtyard where he used to play in the summer when he was a child. He remembered how hot courtyard gravel had felt on his bare feet and he could almost hear the sound of it moving. Suddenly he evoked the feeling of child play and safety among the people who loved him.
Moving away from the window and he looked at the curtains; they were not the same as the ones that they had when he was small. These were much newer and modern. The material was synthetic so that you didn't have to iron them and they always looked crispy white.
He went the »little room« where his summer teenage den used to be. Now it was all refurbished but his inner eye could see the posters of his favourite singers that once used to embellish the walls: up there was the face of Hendrix staring at him while he was listening to music in the long nights listening to the Woodstock album on his grandma's old record-player, drinking galons of black coffee to keep him wide awake.
He left his baggage in the »little room« and left the house feeling he had just returned from the past, still sensing his younger self within. He stopped and thought how everything had changed since then. But he also realized that the past was all within him and that everything he liked from it would always remain at his reach.