The freezer door slammed shut after I grabbed a strawberry sundae cup. A shiver ran down my spine as I walked back across the cold, concrete basement floor. I stifled a laugh once I realized that I came down here barefoot. I quickly ran back up to the first floor, careful not to slip and fall on the steep, orange stairs. The last thing I wanted was for that to happen again.

I flipped the light switch back off and quickly shut the door behind me before I had a chance to look down at the dark, spooky basement. I knew I shouldn’t be this scared of a basement. It was a basement, nothing more, nothing less. But it still scared me.

The linoleum floor made its usual cracking sound as I walked on the rug placed over it. It still smelled like bleach from when Grandma cleaned just the other day. That was strange considering all the mud that had been tracked in.

The smell of sugar cookies baking in the kitchen greeted me as I crossed the threshold from the hall to the dining room. I hoped they turned out good so that I could decorate them later. Papa was taking his routine afternoon nap in his chair. An empty glass of Diet Pepsi sat on the table next to him. I swear, that man could not live without his Diet Pepsi, or so he claims. I went to go take it back into the kitchen when I noticed some at the bottom of the glass beneath the ice. I shrugged. “Bottoms up,” I whispered to myself and tipped the glass into my mouth.

Grandma was in the kitchen, as usual. Some things never change. I set the sundae cup on the counter and carried the now empty glass to the sink in the corner of the room. Above the sink, were two windows, one on each wall. Whenever I was here before school, I would stand in this spot and watch for the bus. But that didn’t happen very often.

Grandma tapped me on the shoulder. “Now, after you finish your ice cream, I want you to start making your icing for the cookies. And I will take a nap.”

I smiled. “Alright.”

“And remember not to make too much. I don’t want to waste anything.”

“If I happen to make too much, I could just eat it.”

She looked at me over glasses and shook her head no. It was worth the shot.

“Fine…” I made an over dramatic sad face.

She shook her head again, “Oh, Emmie.”

About an hour later, we were back in the kitchen and I was still mixing some green icing in a small ice cream dish. The cookies were sitting on top of the stove,cooling. I'd already stolen one and Grandma was now watching me like a hawk. I didn't blame her one little bit. The sound of Papa's audiotape almost filled the entire first floor of the house. He listened to them frequently since he couldn’t see regular book like everyone else because he was blind. I hated it when people told me how nice it was that he got to watch me grow up so closely. He didn’t watch me grow up, he listened to me grow up. I felt bad for him even though I knew how much he hated pity, and I couldn't blame him for that.

A few minutes later, the cookies had cooled and Grandma and I sat there at the kitchen counter with paint brushes dipped in the icing. Earlier that year, she had taught me how to paint them and it was something I found myself looking forward to every time we baked.

"So what are you wearing for Easter?" Grandma asked me.

I shrugged. I don't really know yet." I added the finished touches to an Easter egg on the cookie I was holding. I wanted it to resemble the one from that Anastasia movie, but it wasn't really turning out that way. That's usually how it goes.

"Maybe we can pick something up at Penny’s." Excitement began to well up inside me. I loved shopping with her on Saturdays. It had become a tradition of ours and it was a nice way to spend time with her.

"Awesome," I told her excitedly.

I looked up as Papa shuffled into the dining room, his oxygen tubes trailing behind him. It was still hard to see him this sick especially because he used to be so strong. He still was, but in different ways.
He came and stood next to the stool I was sitting on.

“What are we doing here?” he asked, leaning in to grab an un-iced cookie.

“Just painting some cookies,” I told as I painted some blue and yellow stripes on an abnormally shaped one.

He chuckled. “Why would you want to paint cookies?” He took a bite of the one in his hand.

“Because, it makes them look pretty and its fun,” I explained. “Hey only one!” He was reached for a second cookie and Grandma slapped his wrist from across the counter.

After they were all decorated, the three of us sat in the living room. They were both in their respectable chairs and I sat on the floor against the floral print love seat. He was telling a story about how he used to bring hot chocolate with him to school. He also mentioned that if you didn’t bring wood for the fire, you’d have sit the farthest from the fireplace, no matter how cold it was. Just the thought of it made me shiver.

It was so easy for me to get lost in his stories. After all, no one could tell a story the way could. I hoped that I would never forget them.

Not too long after that, my dad came to pick me up. I wasn’t ready leave yet and I didn’t care how late it got. But I had to leave so I gave my Grandma a big hug and my Papa a high five that caused him to shout, “ow”.

I never wanted my days with them to end. I knew they didn’t have a lot of time left and I wanted to make sure that I got to know them as much as possible. I didn’t even want to think about losing them. I had a hard time imagining it. I am thankful for my time with them and I always will be. They were my best friends.