It’s a long way to the Burrowing Owl Winery in Oliver BC. Especially when you’re late for lunch and you get lost on the way to the dog sitter.
It is so hot that her hound pointer mix Travis does not lift his head to greet Satchmo. But hiding up on the porch, behind the faded couch, there’s a cat who does. Satchmo takes after me; he’s not a cat person. But he’s hooked. “That cat won’t back down,” the woman says.
She gives us the bad news. We have another hour and a half to drive. Feeling guilty about dragging the grandparents all this way just for lunch, I halfheartedly suggest the idea of a quick bite someplace close. But like the cat, we don’t back down. We drive the long way around the lake. And just as we are almost there and can barely speak from parched mouths and empty bellies, we must stop for gas.
Jim’s father squeegies the windows to glistening perfection. His youngest grandson has inherited the need to squeegee, if not the gift. He follows in Papa’s footsteps, swabbing the dirty water all over the sparkling windows. He forgets the part where you’re supposed to wipe them clean.
And we must get to lunch, so they stay that way for the remainder of the trip. Especially troubling is his Nana’s window. Her view of the gorgeous lake is ruined, I fear. But she doesn’t mind, and so I relax too.
What are children for anyway, if not to change your view of things?