Posted in The Ghosts of Springhollow

Grandma’s House

The girls got out of the truck and made their way to the pet cemetary. There were little tombstones here and there of family pets. In the back, under Pimples favourite tree to pee was his little stone with a small picture of him on it. The McFaddens had gone all out for him.

Pickles and Piper held on to each other and cried. They’d looked so forward to seeing him. He always got excited at their visits and never left their side no matter how long they stayed.

The McFaddens had an old-time dinner bell on the porch. Emma rang the bell for the girls to let them know supper was ready. The girls quickly made their way to the farmhouse. The meal was delicious. Fat homemade soy burgers, topped with fresh tomatoes from the garden, homemade pickles, homemade catsup, and Emma’s special mayo.

Nearly everything the McFadden’s ate came straight from their farm. The broccoli, even the cheddar cheese she smothered it with were all made right there. Emma always said the food at her table was best because everything she made she made with love. And the girls believed it. There was no better cook.

After both girls ate a double-serving of apple pie and ice cream, Farmer Mac drove them to their grandparents. He gave the horn a few beeps, but no one came to the door. “That’s odd,” he murmered. “You kids stay here. I’m gonna go have a look.”

The girls sat tight, hoping Grandpa didn’t mistake Farmer Mac for a rat. He knocked on the door several times. It took a bit for Grandma to finally get to the door. Her arms flew up in excitement when she saw the girls. “I didn’t know you were coming! Where’s your father?”

The girls looked at one another and groaned. It was going to be a long summer.

Author:

My name is Yochana, or Yo, for short. Growing up on a farm in southeastern Ohio was pretty lonely, so books and art became my best friends. I wrote my first piece of "fan fiction" in fourth grade. It was based on the movie, "The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman," starring the late Cicely Tyson. That same school year, I wrote a poem that my teacher sent off to a publisher friend. He told her to give me a few years. A little over 20 years later, my poems were published. That to me was a few years. Since then, I've been a reporter who horrified the editors with my grammar skills, wrote for campus publications, written humorous company training manuals, and have written three books. These days, I'm back on the farm taking care of my mom, and living in a '95 Jayco Eagle Mini-motorhome with my cat, Lillie, and three grandkittens. (Thanks, Lillie.)

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