Hope
     The enormous mansion, once looking like the white house, had smashed windows with the morning sun shining through. Also, a wilted garden that was once lively and beautiful, surrounding the haunted house like home. My sister and I stood in the entryway of the aged palace in Newport Rhode Island. We stared at the worn portrait of grandmother facing us. Seeming to be begging us "Please, please help." 

     It would be extremely hard to restore the house. Grandma had been told several times the house was too much.

     My mom had said once, “It  won’t be able to be kept alive. There is too much to do already in our lives.” She built it anyways.
     We hiked up the dusty, grand staircase. Carpeted with the red velvet I had always loved.
     “We can do this,” I announced, “We can restore this house.”

My sister looked at me with hope in her eyes.