I remember a time where everything around me was grand, and everything that I came across was new and exciting. The newly polished floorboards at my gran's house was an ice rink to me, a perfect place on which to practice my sock skating. Her large, two poster bed would be my own trampoline, which I contended to bounce up and down, trying to reach that elusive ceiling light that had so much dust on it. The banister that followed the stairs down to the kitchen would have been the perfect pole-slide that it been more vertical but that didn't stop me. Down I would go, hugging the railing unti…
