The Boy In The Spotlight

Chapter 8

I smiled and waved back, then I started walking up to her driveway. As I was walking up the driveway I called to her, "Thank you, I have been walking for a little while,". The lady's house looked like a homey cottage, and it had a welcoming aura about it. I walked up the three creaking steps that led onto the porch, and the minute I stepped onto the porch the golden retriever's head perked up. The lady waved a frail hand in the vicinity of the old wicker chair that was to my right.

I sat down, careful to not sit down too hard, afraid that I'd break the chair. "How are you?" I asked her politely, hoping to not make the situation too awkward. The dog got up and walked over to me, putting his head on my knee. As I pet the soft fur on the top of the dog's head, I looked up at the lady. She had light grey eyes, with little crinkles at the edges of her eyes. She had short white hair, her hairstyle reminded me of Julie Walters. Her hands were moving fast with a pair of knitting needles in them, the yarn weaving in and through the others. She had a pink and blue flowered short sleeve shirt, and beige capris, with black velcro sandals.

She regarded me with confused interest, "Pretty good, thanks for asking. How are you?"

"Not bad,"

"I don't think I've ever seen you before, are you new to the area?"

"Yes actually. In fact, I live down the road from here now," I pointed to the way that I had come.

"Hmm... Well, my name is Noel Sanderson. But you can call me Sandy, everyone does." she smiled warmly.

"I'm Eric," I returned her smile.

"Where were you heading?"

"A place called Tim Hortons. I was told by my brother that it's some kind of coffee shop."

"It's a coffee shop of sorts," she paused, "They have donuts and smoothies as well. They also have something called a Timbit,"

I knit my eyebrows, "What's a Timbit?"

"You really aren't from around here, are you?" Sandy chuckled good-naturedly, "It's like a donut, except small and round, and it doesn't have a hole in it,"

"Yeah, I'm from the U.S.,"

"How old is your brother?" She asked me.

"He's fifteen, a year younger than me. And I also have a little sister who's six,"

"I have a grandson who is your age, and I also have a granddaughter who's eighteen," Sandy smiled again, as though remembering some happy memory, "Well if you were on your way to Tim Hortons then you should probably get going again because you still have a ways to go."

"Okay, thanks again for letting me stay for a little," I thanked her, slowly getting up out of my seat.

"No problem, come and visit again!" she called as I started walking back down her driveway. I looked back and saw her set down her knitting needles and reach over to pet the dog, looking back at me. I waved and turned around to face the road, then turned right at the end of the driveway, setting my course back towards town.