About an hour in a half up north,

a small little town called Antigo is another home to me.
The long-lasting drive is worth the get-away, it’s where I can be in my only little world, without any worries.

Finally arriving to the long orange stone driveway,
I breathe a sigh of relief.
To the right is a small woods with tall evergreen trees,
and to the left are acres upon acres of corn stalks.

The first thing I do is walk through the front door of my Grandpa’s tall, orange brick house and check the rat traps.
After checking on the rat traps I’ll  grab the key to my ATV and take a stroll around the large, circular back yard,
enjoying the scenery of the woods, and the horses across the street.
All of this brings back memories when my Grandpa was around showing me how to ride a atv and snowmobile.
Pulling me around in his white F-250 truck, while I’m on a sled holding on to dear life to the long brown rope,
Feeding chipmunks peanut butter from our hands,
Shooting  paintball guns, and many more memories.
There may not be many things to do in the small town of 8,000, but it will forever have a place in my heart.