Thunder booms from above as lighting crashes into distant grassy hills formally shielded by darkness. I watch from my right side window as the raging storm parades around our families car. As we glide up and down hilly roads I watch as farm houses, barns, and silos are illuminated occasionally although suddenly through the glass. Our car cruises up and down the winding path until we reach fork in the road. Dirt spews onto the road past the conjoined point in which the two paths seem to collide. Large muddy tire tracks lead this dank, dirty armanda of ground; probably left behind by a large clumsy piece of farm machinery. We turn onto the unpaved road and I observe the farm scenery slowly merge into a dark, undisturbed forest. As the Rain pours and the storm bellows above the forest almost seems to remain unaffected. We push through the small patch of forest until we reach a tiny farm house pushed against the woods while surrounded by two large barns. By the time the car starts to a creep to a halt the raging storms begins to quell. I stretch impatiently; eager to exit the car while still fighting the urge to sleep.
As I exit the car my body expands. I reach for the dark night sky as my my short seven year old self seems to grow several feet taller. I breathe in the damp, misty air. The fresh wet air relieves my throat after a four hour car ride. We gather our neatly pack bags and begin to walk toward the house. We approach the front door only to blinded by a strong fluorescent light. Dogs begin barking loudly from inside; their calls booming along side the now fading thunder. My aunt answers the door as we all hurry inside. Once I enter I am struck by an overpowering scent of smoke. Heat wraps itself around me as I inhale a smell of cigarette butts that sit reduced to tiny glowing embers in a nearby ashtray. We follow my aunt threw compact room that exists in the door way and into the living room were my senses are only further assaulted. Smoke climbs done my throat and into my lungs; the infected dust particles imbedded within my misfortunate organ. My grandfather sits in an old, black, decaying leather chair. He smokes a large cigar while watching a Bruins game on a TV that looks so cloudy you would expect it to have windshield wipers. A discarded hot dog lays on the table next to him with a few bites chomped off. Two Massive Great Danes with sleek black fur sit on the floor in front of him. Their heads turn; their dark brown eyes staring at us as we enter. 
I clutch my bags and sheepishly tip toe over the two massive dogs before racing up the stairs to the nearby room that we are staying in. I place my bag and on the floor and jump back first on the quilt soaked bed. Staring into the dotted mountainous bumps along the ceiling I breath in the now fresh clean upstairs air untouched by the filthy burning smell of smoke. Just as I settle onto the soft, cushioned bed content with my breathable air I hear a calling beckoning back downstairs. I try to subtlety hold my breath as a venture down towards a billowing cloud of smoke; diving in like confident scuba diver unaware that they are low on oxygen.