Author's Note
When I was very young, I lived with my grandparents in their log cabin in the woods. It had been in the family since my mom and aunt were kids, which was evident by the fact that it still had a septic system. There wasn’t any air conditioning or heat, either. Instead, there was a wood stove that we used to keep warm in the Minnesota winters. My grandma used to grow fresh vegetables in the garden, and I would “help” by shoveling the same patch of dirt repeatedly. The white tent at the end of the driveway had her old motorcycle and my little red trike inside. My grandpa had a computer in the loft that he always used to play card games, and my grandmother had a basement craft room where she sewed. There was woods everywhere around the house. My grandpa has a picture of a beautiful owl that landed right on their porch, as well as a picture of a bear that lumbered up the stairs to help himself to some birdseed. I slept with my grandma every night back then, and the woods would creep me out after the sun went down. I remember an ominous train whistle in the distance like clockwork, but my fear was always quelled by the sound of grandma quietly piping up next to me: “Train!”
There were lots of special things about that cabin, but my favorite places to be were the library and Barnes and Noble. My grandma loved books more than anyone I’ve ever met, so I naturally became a little bookworm myself. I remember bringing home stacks of Rainbow Magic and Frog and Toad, which grandma would read to me every night. I remember ogling at Erin Hunter's Warriors after being told it was a “big kid book,” and I also remember grandma buying the first volume for me. Which, as a result, gave me the strongest emotional attachment to a series that I’ll probably have in my entire life. 20 years old, and I’m still obsessed with talking cats. Pretty on brand for me, I guess.
After I started living with my mother again, I would still visit my grandparents frequently. It became tradition for my cousins and I to spend our summer vacations there. We went to the beach every single day, played with new toys to our hearts content, and made more s’mores at the fire pit than I count. When I started getting older and spending all of my time cooped up on my tablet, I started to roll my eyes at the idea of summers there, where the internet was slow and where she made us go outside all the time. Obviously, I would have spent more time in the moment if I knew she was going to pass away so soon. It’s probably one of my biggest regrets, along with not writing this while she was still here to read it.
The summer visits stopped after we moved to Virginia, and then even farther to Arizona. Visiting most of my family in the Midwest became difficult, so there was only a handful of times I saw grandma again before she passed away from leukemia. I saw her for the last time just a few days before she died, when I promised that I was going to write a book dedicated to her.
So, this series is for my grandma, Victoria, who makes me think of blueberries, board games, comfy robes, four wheelers, and snow. Who, honestly, you can thank for this story existing in the first place.
I still worry that you didn't get to finish the book you were reading. I hope you can read this one, from wherever you may be.
