Bedtime was hard that first night on the farm. Sleeping in a new house with unfamiliar sounds and smells is always an adjustment. Darby and I were lying together in the double bed of the guest room.

           “What do you think?” I asked her. I always wanted to know what she was thinking. She had a way of thinking that I couldn't quite match.

           “What do I think about what? Being here? Him?” she said, just a little annoyed because she was trying to sleep.

            “I don’t know,” I said.  “Do you feel better about it now that we're here? Or worse?”

She thought about it, then said, “I guess better. It's always better after you have started something than the time before you start it. Grandma Mimi is nice. She seems glad that we are here.” We had heard nothing but what seemed like bad things about these grandparents and none of what we thought was turning out to be true with Grandma Mimi.

As for Grandpa Jack, he still really hadn’t said anything to us. In the shadows of the night, his height and massive body were even more intimidating. In pictures, you never really get the scope of a man’s true height. Only when you meet that person can you sense how tall they truly are.

While we talked in bed that night, Rascal barked on the porch. His rousing bark and the jangle of his collar were unnerving. We could hear him run after something out somewhere on the farm. We lay there silently listening to the commotion outside. We could then hear Grandpa Jack go out on the porch. Through our window, we saw the swirl of a flashlight outside. It cast shadows on the curtains in our room and on the ceiling. We could hear a commotion in the bushes out in the distance. Rascal was out running something off the farm. Then as soon as it started, it was all over. Grandpa Jack turned off the flashlight and we heard Rascal run back up on the porch, his perch.

          I then asked, “I wonder if they like to fish around here?”

         “Fish?” Darby questioned. “You don’t fish.”

         “Yeah, well, Dad and I always wanted to go fishing. This seems like the type of place where people would go fishing. I bet that Fitch likes to fish. He looks like someone who fishes.”

I thought about fishing for a minute. So many great book characters go fishing and I had never been—such a city kid.

          “You know what, Darby?” I asked.

          “What?”

           “I like it here. It's, you know…different.”

            Darby didn’t wait, “I like Grandma Mimi and the dogs. I think it will be nice for us - this change.”

            I interrupted, “Away from Aunt Jane and Gramma and…”

           “I know. Now, let’s get some sleep.”

           “I love you, Darb.”

           “I love you, Dufus.”

            We laughed and hugged each other before lying on the bed facing separate ways. We didn't have Mom and Dad to hug us every night, but we had each other. I would be grateful for those times with Darby for years to come. You miss your parents' hugs when they are gone. I suppose it doesn’t matter how old you are when they die. Having fewer people to hug in life is never a good thing.