Although most don’t like the mildew musty scent of an unfinished basement. That smell brings me home. To my grandmas basement with the steel shelves and the random pink shower in the back corner. And my playspace on the right of the very steep staircase that always gave my family a mini heart attack when I ran down it. I spent most of my summers down there playing cashier with my grandmas endless shelf of overflowed food and becoming a chef with my tiny kitchen and sink water from the giant tub of a sink. When I was little, my grandma was my best friend. Whenever I was scared to go down in that large dark basement my grandma would always reassure me and we’d walk down there together. And then we would spend the rest of the day playing dress up and spending time together.

Now that we sold that house and my grandma is getting sicker by the day, I miss that basement that made my summers so great. I miss those endless days that seemed to fly by because of my great imagination and the best playmate.

(Edit: my grandma died in October)