{"id":1232,"date":"2016-04-29T12:56:05","date_gmt":"2016-04-29T12:56:05","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.nsteacherscollege.ca\/?p=1232"},"modified":"2019-05-18T11:50:05","modified_gmt":"2019-05-18T11:50:05","slug":"short-story-are-we-there-yet","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.nsteacherscollege.ca\/?p=1232","title":{"rendered":"Short Story: Are We There Yet?"},"content":{"rendered":"

Melda Roache Clark shares another of her stories with us… (Thank you Melda!)<\/h3>\n
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 \"MeldaAre We There Yet?
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by Melda Roache Clark, Class of 1978<\/p>\n

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Some things never change. Whenever our family gets togethe<\/span>r, the topic of conversation <\/span>inevitably turns to Nova Scotia<\/span>. Our children, <\/span>love <\/span>to reminisce about <\/span>idyllic<\/span> summers spent at Nanny and Grampy Roache\u2019s<\/span> house in West Head<\/span>. In their minds, the little yellow house<\/span> with a red roof<\/span> atop a bald<\/span> hill was heaven on earth.<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

As s<\/span>oon as the school year ended, <\/span>my husband, <\/span>Glenn<\/span>,<\/span> and I <\/span>packed our little Dodge K-Car<\/span> in a hurry.<\/span> <\/span>We crammed it full of <\/span>everyt<\/span>hing <\/span>needed for the summer. E<\/span>arly the next morning, we pulled out of our driveway in Peterborough, Ontario. <\/span>Our<\/span> destination was West Head,<\/span> Nova Scotia, a tiny windswept village that juts out into the <\/span>icy <\/span>Atlantic Ocean. <\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

We followed Highway 7<\/span> to Marmora<\/span>, County Road 14 to <\/span>Stirling<\/span>, Highway 62 to Belleville and<\/span>, at last,<\/span> on<\/span> to<\/span> Highway 401.<\/span> <\/span>Glenn set the cruise control at 118 kph and away we went. <\/span>Our first stop was at a service <\/span>centre<\/span> near Cornwall, Ontario. <\/span>Along<\/span> the way, we <\/span>made <\/span>a handful of<\/span> stops<\/span> for gas, food and bathroom breaks. <\/span><\/p>\n

Glenn did all the driving and I <\/span>tried<\/span> valiantly<\/span> to keep the peace. Each<\/span> year the<\/span> trip unfolded <\/span>the same way<\/span>. Between Marmora and <\/span>Stirling<\/span>, Allison <\/span>taunted<\/span> in a singsong voice,<\/span> \u201cI see Nanny\u2019s house.\u201d That was fight number one.<\/span> I had to break the bad news tha<\/span>t<\/span> it<\/span> was impossible to see Nanny\u2019s house because it was over <\/span>fifteen<\/span> hundred <\/span>kilometres<\/span> away. That bought peace for a nanosecond. <\/span><\/p>\n

Next came the complaint, \u201cAllison\u2019s sitting on my half of the seat.\u201d That was fight number two. We pulled over and p<\/span>ositioned<\/span> our large Coleman cooler between them.  I piled it high with blankets and pillows. Jeremy and Allison soon forgot they were mad at each other and <\/span>built<\/span> forts with the blankets. That kept them enter<\/span>tained for a good chunk of time, but not nearly long enough. <\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

Eventual<\/span>ly, they lost interest <\/span>in forts <\/span>and Jeremy whined, \u201cShe\u2019s looking out my window.\u201d That was fight number three.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Allison <\/span>shot back with<\/span>, \u201cJeremy\u2019s smiling at me.”<\/span>
\u201cAnd what in the world is wrong with that?\u201d I asked<\/span> with a sharp <\/span>edge to my voice.<\/span>
\u201cHe doesn\u2019t mean it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

That was fight number four. I threw up my hands in <\/span>utter <\/span>despair. It required the Wisdom of Solomon to rule on these matters. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDear God,\u201d I <\/span>begg<\/span>ed,\u201d w<\/span>hat am I going to do with these children?\u201d <\/span>a<\/span>nd only an hour had passed.<\/span> Perhaps I was not up to the task.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was <\/span>not long <\/span>until the dreaded <\/span>\u201c<\/span>ARE WE THERE YET<\/span>\u201d<\/span> question reared its ugly head. <\/span>This year <\/span>I <\/span>was <\/span>prepared<\/span> because I had spent months crafting the perfect answer<\/span>.<\/span> <\/span>I <\/span>chirped<\/span>, \u201cWe\u2019re getting closer all the time.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I<\/span> depended on my years as a teacher to come up with games to keep<\/span> them engaged. <\/span>We played<\/span> Road Sign Bingo, The Alphabet Game, Bury Your Horses, Twen<\/span>ty Questions<\/span>, Hangman<\/span> and I Spy. I read <\/span>\u201c<\/span>Pippy<\/span> <\/span>Longstocking<\/span>\u201d<\/span> from cover to cover<\/span>. <\/span>T<\/span>hey catnapped<\/span> occasionally<\/span>, but we were still hundreds of <\/span>kilometres<\/span> from Nanny and Grampy\u2019s.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jeremy and Allison spent time <\/span>trying to get truckers to honk their <\/span>air <\/span>horns. Jubilation broke out when it worked. God bless truckers!<\/span><\/p>\n

One summer I came up with a brilliant idea, former<\/span>ly known <\/span>as bribery. <\/span>I rubbed my hands with glee and patted <\/span>myself on the back at<\/span> the <\/span>thought of it. My plan <\/span>was designed to<\/span> kibosh the petty fighting. <\/span>I purchased a roll of quarters at the bank and explained <\/span>the <\/span>game<\/span>\u2019s only rule<\/span>. Each time they whined or fough<\/span>t I would remove <\/span>a quarter<\/span> from the roll<\/span> and put it in my purse<\/span>. <\/span>Jeremy and Allison could split the quarters left<\/span> in the roll<\/span> when we reached West Head. <\/span><\/p>\n

Immediately, t<\/span>hey began to daydream about <\/span>myriad<\/span> possibilities. Allison was goi<\/span>ng to spend her riches on chocolate<\/span> bars. And Jeremy?  He planned to buy a fifty-pound bag of <\/span>the <\/span>hot<\/span> pink p<\/span>eppermints that burn the taste buds off your tongue<\/span> <\/span>and the skin off your cheeks.<\/span> My strategy reduced the fighting, but did not eliminate it.<\/span> <\/span>It<\/span> definitely made the trip more bearable.<\/span><\/p>\n

While I am by nature a patient and accommodating person, the trip had begun to <\/span>exact<\/span> its tol<\/span>l. With each<\/span> passing mile, I was <\/span>coming<\/span> unglued. Beads of sweat broke on my forehead. My <\/span>heart thumped <\/span>wildly<\/span>. Cortisol flooded my brain. <\/span>A wave of nausea washed over me. <\/span>My vision narrowed and sounds fades. <\/span>Was I going to faint? I <\/span>simply<\/span> could not keep it together any longer.<\/span> <\/span>Like a robot, <\/span>I opened my <\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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mouth and could not believe what I said. My mother\u2019s words and the words of every mother since the beginning of time tumbled out and<\/span> I heard myself shouting, \u201cJust wait until you have children of your own!\u201d<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

After twelve solid hours of driving, we called it a day and stopped for the night at a motel in <\/span>Edmunston<\/span>, New Brunswick. We chose a motel with a pool so Jeremy and Allison could burn off their wiggles<\/span>, but more importantly, to give<\/span> our weary ears a much needed rest. <\/span><\/p>\n

The next morning, we departed the motel for<\/span> <\/span>a <\/span>second<\/span> grueling day of driving. By late afternoon,<\/span> we pulled into Nanny and Grampy’s <\/span>familiar lan<\/span>eway. <\/span>A brand new<\/span> <\/span>adventure<\/span>–<\/span>filled <\/span>summer awaited<\/span>. The car doors flew open and Jeremy and Allison took off running. They had to check out the hens, the goats, the <\/span>sheep and any other critters Grampy had acquired. <\/span>After that<\/span> they disappeared into Grampy\u2019s ramshackle barn<\/span> <\/span>to make sure <\/span>e<\/span>verything was just the way they remembered<\/span>.<\/span><\/p>\n

Each day in West Head <\/span>consisted of old-fashioned<\/span>, imaginative<\/span> play. Jeremy, Allison and their cousins<\/span> played baseball on the side of a hill using a long buoy for a bat and a cork for a ball. <\/span>Mother Nature<\/span> <\/span>had <\/span>conveniently<\/span> placed rocks<\/span> <\/span>in the right places <\/span>for<\/span> bases. Sookie, Nanny and Grampy\u2019s <\/span>golden lab<\/span>, <\/span>filled an important position on the team. He <\/span>stood on duty<\/span>,<\/span> ready to <\/span>fetch<\/span> foul balls from the briars.<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n

When baseball<\/span> lost its appeal<\/span>, they jumped into one of Grampy’s old <\/span>dories<\/span> hidden in the tall grass. They loaded it with fishing gear<\/span>, donned their sou\u2019westers<\/span> and set sail for <\/span>the Grand Banks of Newfoundland for a <\/span>boat<\/span>load of<\/span> <\/span>cod<\/span>. <\/span><\/p>\n

There were <\/span>countless<\/span> trips to the beach just over the hill. <\/span>All the children<\/span> played in the frigid water<\/span> until their legs and feet were numb and blue. They c<\/span>ollected <\/span>sea urchins, crab shells, sand dollars and razor clam shells.<\/span> They threw sticks for Sookie to retrieve. At low tide, they explored Bruce\u2019s Island, a children\u2019s paradise.<\/span> <\/span>  <\/span><\/p>\n

On rainy days the cousins played hide-and-seek in the house. <\/span>Each one <\/span>had a favourite hiding place<\/span>. <\/span>The<\/span> <\/span>littlest cousin<\/span> did not completely grasp the <\/span>goal<\/span> of the game. If he were not located right away, a squeaky voice called out, “Look under the bed.” <\/span><\/p>\n

Nanny\u2019s thirty-year-old Monopoly <\/span>game <\/span>got lots of use. Jeremy and Jon kept the <\/span>same <\/span>game running for days. <\/span>When one of them lost all his money<\/span>, the bank loaned<\/span> more, with no expectation of repayment.<\/span> The two boys<\/span> were creatures of habit. Jeremy always chose the boot playing piece and Jon claimed the car. <\/span><\/p>\n

By mid-August it was time to <\/span>pack up and return to Ontario because s<\/span>chool would begin in a few weeks. They left West Head with enough memories to last until next summer. <\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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This annual family pilgrimage contin<\/span>ued until about the year 2000. By then, o<\/span>ur children were <\/span>older and <\/span>getting summer jobs<\/span>. <\/span>This wonderful<\/span> summer tradition had come to an end.<\/span> <\/span>Several years would pass before they returned to West Head.<\/span><\/p>\n

Earlier this year, another generation struck out on the familiar journey. <\/span>Jeremy and Allison<\/span> are <\/span>excited<\/span> to return to the little yellow house<\/span> with the red roof<\/span>. Nanny and Grampy Roache have both passed away<\/span> and the torch<\/span> has passed to Glenn and me. <\/span>Our children<\/span> are eager to take their children to the beach<\/span> <\/span>to <\/span>build sand castles and to wade in the frigid water. They <\/span>want to<\/span> spend <\/span>precious hours <\/span>making new memories <\/span>with aunts, uncles and cousins. <\/span><\/p>\n

We are convinced to some degree, that<\/span> <\/span>Jeremy and Allison<\/span> have been kidnapped by M<\/span>r. Nostalgia<\/span> and Mrs. Amnesia<\/span>. <\/span>They have completely forgotten what it is like to spend two or three days cooped up <\/span>in a car with little kids. <\/span>Glenn and I<\/span> <\/span>agree that<\/span> a <\/span>healthy <\/span>dose<\/span> of restitution is in<\/span> order. It is time to get even <\/span>for the dozens of nerve-wracking<\/span> trips we made with them. <\/span>But how?<\/span><\/p>\n

We have <\/span>used telepathy to imprint<\/span> <\/span>the <\/span>brains<\/span> of <\/span>our beautiful granddaughters<\/span>, Greta and Maddie<\/span> with <\/span>vile <\/span>messages<\/span>.<\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n