The Summer at Camazotz

Thirty

The last time we went up to Vancouver was in May for my grandpa's birthday. We try to go up as often as we can so that they don't have to be the ones to make the trip to Abbotsford, but with life being so busy lately, it's been a while since we've gone up.

The drive is only about an hour—nothing compared to the drive to Camazotz—and goes by rather quickly. Mom and Dad try to spark a conversation between the four of us, but I'm not in the mood. They eventually give up when I put in my earbuds and stare out the window. Winston falls asleep as he usually does on these rides, leaving Mom and Dad to talk amongst themselves.

When we pull up into the driveway, a sense of relief washes over me. I've been in a sour mood the past few days, but being at my grandparents' house now, there's no way I can be anything but happy while I'm here.

I nudge Winston awake and he blinks blearily up at me. He probably didn't sleep much last night, doing God knows what to all hours of the night.

Grandma opens the door before we even have a chance to knock. Her face lights up with a big smile and she rushes forward to grab Winston and I. We're pulled into her tight embrace and I let myself relax in her arms. Grandma's always had a way of making the bad things in life disappear.

"It's about time you got here," she teases. "I'm not getting any younger."

"Dad was driving," Winston says, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Grandma nods in understanding. "Well, that makes sense then. I don't know who raised him to drive like a turtle, but it certainly wasn't me."

Winston and I chuckle as our parents approach, giving us wary looks.

"What are you three up to already?" Dad asks, looking sceptical.

"Oh nothing," Grandma says. "Just making fun of you."

Mom smiles and goes to give Grandma a hug. "So nothing new, then."

The five of us head into the house, dropping our bags off in the living room. Grandma ushers us outside to the backyard where Grandpa is busy working away in the garden.

I've always loved my grandparents' backyard. It's a large space, most of it taken up by their blooming garden. There's a swing in one corner where I like to lounge during the afternoon, sipping lemonade and letting the hours go by. The backyard is fenced in, but there's a gate that opens up to the woods behind their house. There's a small field between the line of houses and the forest where children on the street love to play. None of them venture into the forest on account of their parents' insistence, but Winston and I have made a habit of sneaking off into the trees.

Grandpa looks up at the sound of the screen door closing. He stands up, swiping some dirt off his gloves and shouts, "Hey, strangers."

"Hey, Grandpa," I call out, waving alongside my parents and brother.

Dad whistles appreciatively. "The garden's looking good this year, Ma."

"When does it not?" she places her hands on her hips, looking out over the garden. She turns back to us, a shy smile gracing her features. "There's still some more work to be done. It'd go by faster with all of your help."

"Sure," Mom agrees. "Come on boys, go start helping your grandfather."

Winston grabs some extra gloves from the shed and hands me a pair. I slip them on and head over to where Grandpa is kneeling next to the tomato plants. He instructs us on what to do and the memories of gardening flow back easily. We've done this a thousand times before, so it doesn't take long to fix up the garden.

An hour later, we step back, admiring our work. Everything is much cleaner and all the fruits and vegetables that needed to be harvested sit in baskets behind us.