Gram has lived alone for a while, now. She dropped the fishing club she was a part of when Gramp died, she never tried to meet anyone else. I guess there’s only so many times you can lose people around whom your life revolved before you decide your garden is enough to keep you happy.
I know Gram isn’t sad, she’s wise, and she is an optimistic soul down to her core; but I can’t help but feel a pinch in my throat when I see her yard. She’s decorated everything fo Halloween – and the season has barely started. She grew and carved half a billion pumpkins, hung lights and banners, laid down a seasonal rug and got sweets at the ready by the door. Among other things. The result is an awesome atmosphere, and I know she probably enjoyed the process of making it as much as te beautiful results – she is an artist after all. But it saddens me to think that there’s no one to enjoy it on the daily, but her.
I hope the Brindleton Bay kids show up to trick or treat, at the very least. If they don’t, they’ll seriously be missing out.
I barely have time to tell Gram about the situation that Chloé has climbed the stairs to go munch on some Halloween candy.
“So that’s what happened! Do you think we could crash at your place for the night? I know, it’s an odd way to visit for the first time, and I hate to impose, but…”
“What are you talking about? I’d love to have you and your sister for the night!”
“We won’t stay long! Cléo has class in the morning anyway, we’ll be out of your hair…”
“Hannah, you ae forever welcome here. This is your family’s house.”
“Thanks, Gram!”
The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans) 