The Summer Home

2. Settling In

     The next morning things seemed to be getting better by the moment. The sun was out, the sky was clear, and the kids were excited to get back out and away from their crazy parents. Peter remembered what it was like to want to get away from his old man, and now he would give anything to sit down with the old bastard and share a beer. Peter couldn't make his kids realize that anymore than his father could drive it into his thick skull. It was something he knew they would all regret later with time, but there was nothing he could do about it. Peter prayed that it would in time make them better parents much like his Dad did for him one way or another. If anything, his old man taught him how not to be a parent, and that benefited his grandkids a great deal. His Dad was never there for him, working long hours and on the road for a company that didn't care how those hours effected his home life. Peter's mom was also a nurse who also worked insane twelve-hour shifts, so even when he was in grade one Peter would remember walking home from school all by himself. He spent more school days with his television than he did his parents, and while many people thought that much TV wasn't good for you, Peter didn't turn into a homicidal maniac for doing that and was pretty normal... whatever that was. Peter had become a writer because it was the one thing that he was good at. Telling stories and tales that made people's hearts swoon was everything he lived for, but the money was pretty good too. One great benefit to living his dream was the location of his office. His work allowed Peter to be home twenty-four seven, and the ability to spend every day with the kids was his inspiration to keep writing one novel after another.

     While Peter wasn't a bestselling mega millionaire writer, he was perfectly content with that. Not everyone can be Barry Bonds, but he was pretty sure the little players on the same team had fun just being there. To be on the field, live the dream, and play a game for a living. There are millions of people who lived that dream every day, and while not all of them can make the hall of fame, Peter was pretty sure most of those players were happy just to be a part of the game. It was the same attitude he had regarding his craft. He was happy just to be in the sandbox that was the publishing industry, making enough money to support his family and even a little left over to do something for those less fortunate than himself. Combine that with the chance to be home for the kids all the time to help them with homework and sign permission slips, Peter couldn't have asked for a better outcome. The fact that he loved every minute of it was just an added bonus. Being a writer to him came second to being a father and he loved his kids with all his heart. Peter never blamed his parents for working such long hours, as they did it all for him so he could have the things in life he needed to get by. They worked their hands to the bone, something he would never have to do, and he held nothing for them but love and respect.

     It was the same love and respect he held for Sonya who for the better part of seven years had been the best thing in his life; his savior. Peter laughed to himself when he thought about where it all started. Just a simple place and simple run in. Nothing special and no way to ever predict what would happen in life. He remembers it was a Tuesday because the previous day had been a holiday.

* * * *

     "Excuse me." A voice called out.

     Peter turned around and there she was. Nothing had quite prepared him for what he was about to see, but the weather had been really warm for that time of year, so it wasn't completely inappropriate. He had never seen her coming, but this beautiful woman who was asking for his help was wearing a pink dress that showed a lot of let and cowboy boots. A weird combination, but one that he would not soon forget as it looked almost as amazing as she did.

     "Yes, can I help you?" Peter asked.

     "I just wanted to know if this area was where the kids get in line for grade 3." The young lady asked. She was holding hands with a small boy who was no older than eight who obviously was there to attend.