Family

When my dad said we needed a fresh start after my mom died I didn’t realize he meant literally. Fresh tomatoes dotted the field with clouds of basil and parsley. Stalks of corn towered over the pumpkin patch and the smell of fertilizer burned my nose. The sun crept over the rolling hills as dawn slunk over the morning sky. My dad called me down for breakfast. I groaned, threw off my covers, and pulled on my slippers before dragging myself downstairs. “Why, good morning, sleepyhead! I made pancakes!” my dad chimed. I pulled a comb through my ratty hair. “Dad, it’s five-thirty in the morning, why do we have to get up so early?” “Because there is a lot of work to be done around here and we don’t have enough money to hire help for the time being,” he responded, flipping the pancakes. “I miss Mom,” I moaned. He froze, the pancake sizzled in the pan, he lowered his head. “I know, but life moves on and we must too, no matter how much we miss her,” he replied quietly. “By the way, Mia, I need you to water the crops, put down fresh fertilizer, do the laundry, and start dinner. I need to head to town to gather some supplies, but I’ll be back by three.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Think you can handle that?” My dad said to leave her be, that she was probably without a home I nodded without looking up. “That’s my girl!” He dumped a stack of pancakes onto my plate. “Dig in!” Once we were done with breakfast, my dad pulled out of the driveway in the rusty old pickup truck, leaving me all alone. I sighed and pulled my knees to my chest as I sat on the front stoop. When my mom was here I was never alone. When I was scared she’d pull me close and tell me that she was there, right there for me. She said she would protect me, she said I would never be alone. I took three deep breaths and composed myself. I forced myself to stand and go over the list of my chores. *          *          * Watering all the plants took a couple hours; I pushed the big cart of fertilizer down the long path towards the fields. I soon approached the bean patch. An old lady was there, just sitting and staring. She hung out there a lot. I didn’t know who she was though. My dad said to leave her be, that she was probably without a home and needed someplace to stay. It was still uncomfortable having her around though. I sped up my pace. I didn’t want to be near her any longer than necessary. It was hard to maneuver the cart on the bumpy ground. I struggled to keep it in line, but it hit a rock and went swerving to the side. Fertilizer was everywhere, and all over the old woman. Dirt colored her bleached hair and stained her weathered yellow dress. She didn’t say a word; she just stared, her eyes drilling holes into mine. I stood there like a deer in the headlights, then ran, leaving the cart as I sprinted back to the house. *          *          * My dad and I were enjoying our meal of mashed potatoes, biscuits, peas, and lamb chops when the bell rang. My dad set his napkin on the table and went to answer the door. Standing stiffly in the doorway was the old lady; she was still filthy from the fertilizer. “My clothes are dirty,” she stated blandly. “I can see that,” my dad answered, a little thrown. “My clothes are dirty,” she repeated, more insistently this time. “How may I help you?” he asked. “She knows,” she pointed at me. “She knows why my clothes are dirty.” “Mia?” He waited for an explanation. I shifted awkwardly in my seat as my dad looked at me expectantly. “It was an accident!” I blurted. “I couldn’t steer the cart and the fertilizer spilled!” “Mia!” My dad shook his head. “You didn’t help her clean up?” “Look at her, Dad, she’s scary!” “Mia!” he scolded. He shook his head. “I’m so sorry about this,” he apologized to the lady. “Mia, go upstairs and get my overalls and your big fleece. She needs new clothes.” “But Dad, I like that fleece!” “Mia!” He stared at me. “Fine!” I stomped up the stairs, pulled the clothing out of the closet roughly, trudged downstairs, and threw the clothing in the lady’s face. “Mia!” my dad exclaimed. “Go to your room!” I gave the woman a look of pure hatred and did as my dad told me to. I lay awake for most of the night, thinking about what happened downstairs. I wasn’t sure why I got so upset. The jacket didn’t mean that much to me. I guess it was the fact that that lady just barged in and ruined the peaceful evening I was having with my dad. My mom would have stuck up for me. She wouldn’t have let me get pushed around by some stranger. *          *          * The next day I went on with my chores as usual after apologizing to my dad about making a scene the night before. I walked down the long path to get the hose and sponges I needed to clean the truck. Unfortunately, it was the same path I took when I spilled the fertilizer the day before. I prayed that the lady wouldn’t be there, but to my dismay there she was. I tried to avoid her gaze as I sped up my pace. “You like my here bean plant, child?” the lady croaked. I stopped and stared. “I said, you like my here bean plant?” I waited a

By Jack Zimmerman Illustrated by Thomas Buchanan My grandpa has always loved to build and is a very handy man. He retired from his job as an electrician a few years ago. He has really big muscles and really big hands, so he can always lift something heavy. However, he still loves to build and continues to do it, but now only with those he loves. He has built a garage, a barn, and a trellis, and when I’m around I work with him. I always thought to myself that one day I would build a project with him and I would show him how much fun I have doing them. The problem is he lives in California and I’m in New York, so I’m not around that much. My grandpa is always calling, saying how he is in the middle of a project that he is doing with my cousin Logan, who lives very close to him. I’m always jealous when I hear that and want to go over there and help. I didn’t think he knew how much I loved to build and I didn’t think he cared. One time I was in the middle of doing my homework in third grade and my grandpa called. “Hi son,” he said in his deep voice. “Hi Grandpa,” I said in reply. “Guess what!” he said in excitement. “What?” I said, excited to know. “Logan and I are building a barn. It’s so exciting,” he said. Everything went silent. I slowly turned to look out the window. I was so upset and disappointed, but all I said was, “Cool. It must be a lot of fun.” Then I said goodbye and hung up. We just sat there looking at our final piece of art and didn’t say much I tried not to think about it and tried to finish my homework as the light in my room slowly started to dim as the sun went down. I did finish my homework, but the whole time I was thinking about our conversation. I just wanted to be alone. I didn’t know what to do. The thing is, there was nothing I could do about it. My grandpa is so great and does everything I like to do, and for that reason I love him so much. All I needed was just one project. Building is just very fun for me. The summer after third grade I went back out to California. Grandpa and I were on our way to the store to get some supplies. We were going to build a chicken coop. We went through the store getting one thing after another. I didn’t do much because he was better when it came to getting supplies and he was also paying, so I let him do what he had to do. When we got back we started planning and putting the first steps together. “Do you want to put the first few boards together or do you want to read the blueprint we just made?” I said. “How about this? I will start to put the coop together as you read me the blueprint. You watch what I’m doing and when you think you can do it you tell me and we will switch,” Grandpa said. “Sounds good,” I said. We started to work on the coop and not long after I understood what he was doing and we switched. I started doing it myself until I made a mistake. “Wait a sec, son. That’s not how you do it. You have to hold the hammer like this and hit it on the nail like this.” “Oh, I get it now, Grandpa. Sorry.” “There is no need for a sorry, son. Mistakes are the only way to learn and the world would be so boring if there was no such thing as mistakes.” Each time I would make a mistake he would correct me and teach me how to do it right. That was what I loved most about him during that project. At the end of the day I couldn’t believe how much I had learned in just a few hours. I soon started to think that this project was more of a learning experience than just to build a coop with Grandpa. I felt like his goal was not by the end of the day to have a chicken coop, but to teach me the skill of building and to make sure I was having a fun day. A few hours later we were done building the chicken coop. I went and got a bucket to sit on next to Grandpa. The coop looked so shiny, like a brand new car. I could still smell the fresh paint emanating from the coop. The windows were so clean and the roof was on the most perfect slant I have ever seen. The bedding of hay for the chickens smelled like it was just cut a second ago. Grandpa and I had built the coop together. We just sat there looking at our final piece of art and didn’t say much. One thing was for sure though, I was thinking how great this project was to me and it reminded me how much I love my grandpa and how much I need him, even though I don’t get to see him often. He doesn’t realize it and I didn’t until now how much I have actually learned from him from just one simple project. I love him. We sat there looking at the coop, just him and me. I couldn’t believe what I saw. I had just built a chicken coop with my grandpa. One of my goals was done. Now, there I was looking at something I had finally got to do with my grandpa. I was so happy. “Thank you, son,” he said to me. “Thank me for what? You’re the one who has been teaching me. So thank you so much for everything.” “Thank you as well.