Gen Webster Author

 Hi everyone, This post is in response to a writing prompt about visiting Grampa's house. I'd love to hear your reflections.                                                                     Not Grampa’s house It was never Grampa’s house, not even when he was alive. It was always Granma’s. It was her money; her inheritance. The only recollection I have is a photo in a silver frame on the mantle shelf above the fireplace. And his armchair, a stuffed horsehair monstrosity that took up a whole corner of the sitting room. The chair and the man are connected by the photo of him staring into the middle distance through round frameless spectacles. There’s an air of arrogant remoteness as he sits in the very same chair, his hands resting across his stomach. What is he seeing? What thoughts are clamouring for his at...