Sitting in the taxi, I stared out of the window at all the buildings that we passed, as memories of this place flashed through my mind.

I was home, I scoffed. I hadn’t been back in my hometown for six years, having moved away for college and having stayed away.

And now, now I was back.

I focused my attention on the buildings as we passed. Driving along Main Street, I took in the changes that my home town had gone through while I was gone. Most of them having changed from their homely look to a now modernized one.

Memories of this place rushed through my mind, memories of me as a small child running down the street with my parents following behind me. Memories of me rushing down the street with my friends as a teenager, our minds more preoccupied on boys back then.

I smiled at the memories that crossed my mind, but that smile was quickly replaced by a frown, as we drove passed the one building that I had feared to see. The sight of it caused my heart to constrict for out of all the buildings in this town, the one that made my heart ache had remained the same, untouched by the changes of time.

I stared at the building and even turned in my seat to get one last glimpse at it as it disappeared with the distance. The sight of it etched into my mind.

“We’re here, Miss.” The taxi driver called to me not a moment later, bringing me out of my thoughts and back to reality to see that we had stopped in front of my childhood home.

“Oh, thank you.” I said, pulling money out of my wallet and handing it to him. Not waiting for my change, I opened the car door and got out, pulling my tiny suitcase along with me.

Staring up at the building in front of me, I took a deep breath before I walked up to the wooden door. Not exactly ready for what awaited me behind it, I took one last deep breath in before I opened the door and walked in.

The event that brought me here wasn’t a happy one, you see. If not for it I wouldn’t have come back, for the event I was here for was a sad one, a heart breaking one. For it was for the funeral of my favourite person in the world.

My Grandfather, someone I hadn’t had the privilege of saying goodbye too.

. . . . . .

His funeral had been small, just close family and friends had come to say their goodbyes.

Though many people in town knew him or knew of him, none of them came to the funeral for they chose to respect my mother’s wishes of having a small gathering.

And with the funeral having passed, I had no reason to stay any longer and yet I found myself unable to leave.

I walked the streets which brought back all kinds of memories, happy ones and sad ones. It brought back memories of making friends and losing them, of finding young love and losing it.

But mainly it all brought back memories of my grandfather, memories that were now painful to have, and yet I did nothing to stop them from continuing on.

The most painful memory I had, came whenever I walked passed that old building. The one that hasn’t changed the one that remains the same. My most painful memory is of that building, because it wasn’t just my favourite place, no it was a place that my grandfather and I shared.

It was our space.

Our own little sanctuary.

I walked passed it every single day, I walked passed but I never went in.

I mean I stopped and stared at it all the time, as if committing it to memory. But never once did I ever feel the courage to step inside it.

I knew the building like the back of my hand, every single brick that it was made of, every single book that stood in the window which to this day still remained there. I knew everything about it.

I knew where everything in it stood, and where every single book belonged, for I literally lived in that building when I was younger, and yet now.

Now I couldn’t dare step into it.

Now until that one fateful day, when something inside me changed and finally I took that step.

I had stared at the building for a full five minutes before I moved, but once I did. I couldn’t stop. The bell above the door went off when I pushed it open. Stepping in was like a blast of memories as I was hit with familiar smells.

Smells of books, wood, leather and my grandfather’s favourite, good ground coffee.

Nothing within the place had changed either, as I looked around. Everything about the place, I loved was the same, everything except for . . .

I froze then when my eyes landed on him.

As he stood there staring back at me in shock, for we hadn’t seen each other in years and yet here we stood.

A new memory flashed in my mind then, of his last words to me before I had left that day.

“We will see each other again.” He had said before he kissed me softly and I left.

And sure enough we did.

My eyes shone brightly at the sight of him, as he smiled back at me.

“Hello love.” He called, his eyes shining with happiness before a smile broke out on my face.

For one never truly forgets their first and only love.

Now do they?

*****

So I came across this prompt book and decided I shall enter it.

And this was the product of my imagination. Well one of many.

Hope that everyone finds it to their liking.

Fingers crossed for the win...