Grampie's Walk

When I was younger, my favourite thing to do with Grampie was follow him on his walks. With Sam the dog running ahead of us, we’d take the path behind the house to the garden where he’d pick a sweet carrot for me or let me taste some of the best green beans in existence. Then we’d walk past the garden, along the banks and down the old bridge road. He wouldn’t say much – he wasn’t a man of many words – and in some ways that made him mysterious. But Grampie wasn’t a mystery… he was the ultimate in consistency!

As a kid, it’s important to have certain beacons of consistency and Grampie was a pillar. I know I could find him perched at the left side of the couch if he wasn’t puttering in the yard or eating dinner. I know he’d greet me with a big, “Wendy, darlin’!” I know I could always get a prized peppermint if I asked nicely. I know he would let me play with one of his coveted Snoopy toys. I know that he had the greatest monster yawns in the universe. I know that if I got up early in the morning he’d be frying eggs in the kitchen. I know that he wouldn’t be the same without his signature suspenders and cap.

I thought about these things yesterday as I walked the old path, a path marked with thousands of Grampie’s early morning footsteps. From the bridge, up the old road, across Granny Mingo’s lawn - in the opposite direction as if I was moving backwards through time. The garden has grown over and the path hard to see, but I can still taste those carrots just like I could still feel Grampie walking beside me.

- October 1, 2008