Graeme climbed out of the trembling truck in the Town of Gravenhurst. He read the sign with the faintest feeling of anxiety and excitement. "Gravenhurst", he said under his breath as he gazed at nothing familiar in wonder. This town he was in now, he would later fondly call home. It's early Spring. The birds chirp, but there is still grey slushy snow on the ground. Graeme had never seen grey snow before, when he touched it it didn't crunch and compress under his weight. In an unfamiliar manner the snow squished and squeezed out from under him. It is warm as the sun shines bright in the wispy blue sky. Graeme, tired of sitting still, started moving toward the town, he heard sounds he did not know and saw things he could not name. Cars whizzed by squirting snow to the ditch as they passed. Buildings blocking the sun displaying plants cut from their root, somehow still able to arrange in great drama and colour. People ran in and out of these buildings as if they could not stand the cold for more than two minutes at a time. When they finished in the building they climbed inside their cars and rumbled away, probably to a nice warm home. At this moment Graeme realized the sun was going down and soon the cold would be too much to bear without shelter or fire. He looked around, no trees. he moved around, no shelter. He shivered as if dancing to the sound of the wind as it howled from around the corner. His shivers are not just from the cool evening air but also from the fear of the unknown. Not knowing what was next was terrifying. Inclemently he sat, "Something will come" he tried to warm his thoughts until... "Hello, would you like a Certs? It has a retsyn centre." Graeme responded with blankness as the golden aged woman extended her hand as if this 'retsyn centred" object was something of pride. The woman thrust it into his hand simultaneously pulling him to the car saying, "call me Grandma, you're coming for dinner".
Graeme, seated at the table with a plate of turkey, mashed potatoes and peas all drenched in gravy made from the roasting pan, looked around at the people surrounding him. Adults, at a table near by, sloshed glasses of wine as they heckled and cheered for the excitement and accomplishments of those seated near by. At his own table, children of his age are grasping glasses of milk with two hands as the glasses drawn to their face a large and prominent gulp was sucked in. Then they wiped their faces with their forearms - elbow to finger tip - with smiles and joy. Graeme ate in silence and sipped his milk from a straw. As dinner ended Graeme glanced once more around the room. Silence. His part of the table was covered in the food he had dropped from his fork, his neighbours all asleep in their chairs. The adults had all moved on to lather and more wine. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, silence on his lips he mouthed one word "home". Graeme let The Sandman carry him onto dreams to be.