Beggining of a story

I lived in a house, which was owned by my grandparents, which was surrounded by houses and had a school nearby. In my grandparents house with what felt like my uncle but was really my dad. To me he was no more than an uncle at such a young age. Twenty was a young age to have me. He knew the best thing to do for me was to let his parents take care of me. At least he stuck around and made an effort but my mother didn’t. He built his life up like blocks of Lego, finding a woman to spend the rest of his life with and living in a house for his children to grow up in.