I skip down to the shed to find Granddad is just closing the door. He’s carrying an old jam jar full of nails. He has lots of these. They are a bit like his pieces of wood. He never seems to use them.
He grunts at me. “Must be going well, Millie. Don’t you let fame go to your head, though.”
It’s hardly fame, Granddad, I think, but then he still doesn’t understand how to use the DVR. I’m not even going to try to begin to explain this.
“I don’t understand it, Millie,” Granddad continues, “but Teresa tells me it’s going well. It’s going better than her attempts to make a smoky-lamb-flavor ice cream, anyway.”
“Do you ever get annoyed at Teresa, Granddad?” This is a sort of mean thing to ask, but I do wonder. Granddad is old-fashioned and sensible, and Teresa is … not.
Granddad stares at me. He looks tired. “You have to let people make their own choices, Millie. Some people think I should have been harder on my kids and then they both wouldn’t be living at home with me and trying to make money in stupid ways. But there’s more to life than making money and having a job that impresses people. It’s called contributing, Millie. Contributing.”
What does this mean? I hope I’m not going to get a gardening lecture. It was lovely of Granddad to help me out with my pumpkin competition in first grade, but I know far too much about garden plants than the average thirteen-year-old should.
“Contributing to other people’s lives. Trying to make things better. There’s lots of ways to do it. Picking up rubbish is a way to contribute. Just taking care of yourself is a way to contribute. Even trying to fuse a kebab and a Cornetto is a way to contribute to life. You are doing it by sharing that common sense of yours and trying to make people’s lives better. I’m proud of you.”
This makes me so warm inside, I could burst. Compliments from Granddad are like really rare orchids that only grow in specific climates.
I told you. I know far too much about plants.
“But just one thing, Millie.” Granddad looks almost stern. “I know that brain of yours—full of ideas but full of worries, too. Don’t give away so much of yourself that you’ve got nothing left. Don’t get into situations that put you in the firing line of idiots. You’re still only young. You may have an old head on those shoulders, but it’s a sensitive head that needs watering, shelter, and love. Keep away from the weeds. And remember, sometimes weeds have pretty flowers.”
I give him a hug.
“Now I suppose you’ll be wanting my shed again. Well, you can have it. I’ve got a serious appointment with some begonias out front.”
“Thanks, Granddad.”
I love Granddad. I suppose getting trolled is as inevitable as getting your fingernails muddy when you do the gardening. You just have to toughen up and get a good liquid soap. Or something. You can’t wash bad thoughts away, but you can park them in the farthest bit of the brain supermarket parking lot near the mind gas station.
I really need to get my head together before the next vlog, or no one will actually know what on earth I’m talking about.