I wish to say that English is not my mother language and that i'm not so good to make up stories so be good with me.

write a short story

this morning i feel in my haert a sens of nostalgia and apprehension, i must to pass in the Street were live my grandma!
I start walking; i slow down the steps, i'm almost there, i observe exaited that almost nothing has changed from then.
It's a little Street, there are three low boulding and are tinted with soft colors, in front of each there is a small and lovely garden, there are many plants with wonderful flowers, there is a only big tree where lives many chirping sparrows, During spring between their singing and the beautiful flowers of many colors it's all a harmony in that silent Street! Seems to see a fabulous painting and i Always think that it was magic. I stop my steps and look the closed window at the first floor, who knows who lives there now.
A sea of memories pass through my mind, my dad's cheerfulness, his sorrows, how many party and birthday, between disputes laughs and tears in that house it's been more than 30 years!
Sweet nostalgia, how knows if in that four walls there is still the small of my granmother's kitchen...oh, i loved her chocolate cake.
Remeber hurts, so i take bake my way and before turning the corner i look back again just for a momento, when suddenly a ray of sunshine reflects on the window a shining light. I don't know if mine is pure fantasy and think that it was the farewall of my grandma.
Sighing i look the sky, i feel my heart more lightly, the apprhension is end but in that Street i left a bit of my life.

grandma and beautiful image

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