Whenever I am privileged enough to stay with my grandparents in St. Catharines, the days are long but never unpleasant. From the moment of arrival, when Papa dutifully loads our bags into the trunk and drives us home from the bus terminal (never without a few old-fashioned driving remarks), to the last hour before bed, spent gathered around Grandma's timeless kitchen table, all worries and sour thoughts flee my mind to be replaced by an expansive happiness. My grandparents' house may be nothing significant to the naked eyes of strangers, but to me, every corner, nook and cranny have a special importance.
Once in a while, a day comes along that you won't be quick to forget. I am sure that today is one of those days. I ate bursting grape tomatoes straight from Papa's garden; I breathed in the mingling scents of a flower shop so lovely it could make you jump up and down; I stared in wonder at the wares of a farmer's market, mouth watering as I selected a basket of nectarines for purchase; I watched on as my sweet littlest cousin did 'magic'; I practically inhaled a slice of marble cake (and plenty more licks of frosting); I sipped green tea in my pajamas as family traded tale after tale; and now, I am going to bed, excited to wake up tomorrow morning and do it all over again.