On Sunny Lane: Isn't It Great

There is a conundrum that has been nagging me since I was eight years old, and I met my great aunt for the first time.

If she is my great aunt, was I her great niece or her grand niece? After all, the child of the child of a person is called a grandchild, so you would expect the child of the child of your brother or sister to be called a grand niece or nephew. Yet, I have always heard them referred to as a great niece or nephew. Are they grand or are they great?

No matter. Sweetheart and I were making our way to Virginia to attend my great (grand) niece’s wedding. There were nieces, nephews, great (grand) nieces, nephews and and great, great (grand, grand) nieces and nephews to see along the way.

But, first, we needed to traverse the hilly, winding back roads of West Virginia and a good portion of Virginia to get there. There was little to see in the part of West Virginia we traveled where there were no forests, there were miles and miles of fields, and very little habitation. When we did see houses, they were few and far between. The towns were small, and industry was almost non-existent. However, we did choose to take the scenic route and that is what we saw.

We traveled along this way until we came to Virginia. We came to a small town just inside the border. It still had many of the attributes of its neighboring state. It looked as though there were scarcely more than 20 houses, a hardware store, a post office, a general store, two restaurants—the High Restaurant and the Highlander Restaurant—and a coffee shop.

Since it was lunchtime, Sweetheart and I stopped to eat. We chose the High Restaurant. We were impressed with the food and the service. It was home cooking, served with flair. And, even though we shared the meal as usual, we had plenty to eat. I noticed a bell and a sign beside the door, where we were going to exit. It read, "If we did well, please ring the bell. I encouraged Sweetheart to do so.

I’ve never known Sweetheart to be shy, but it seemed that he was that day. He pulled the rope on the clapper so gently that it could scarcely be heard in the restaurant. The waiter definitely couldn’t hear it—just the people sitting at a table nearby.

After lunch, we pushed on to our destination—a hotel suite in Glen Allen, where we and the rest of the family had reservations.

This area of the state was a far cry from the bucolic scenes we had witnessed along our way. Two-lane country roads had gradually become hustling, bustling four-lane highways, with businesses of all kinds on all sides.

Once we checked into our room, we were able to get a much-needed nap before we went exploring. We visited a farm market, a thrift store, and a Whole Foods Market. I was excited to see a Whole Foods Market, as we don’t have one in our community. We got a few items there that we can’t get at home. We got some soup to eat in our hotel room.

We got a phone call from my niece that evening saying that they had arrived and were going to look for a place to eat. Since we had already eaten, we made plans to meet in the dining room in the morning and have breakfast together.

We were through traveling for a couple of days and were looking forward to spending time with the family. It was going to be great. Or was it going to be grand?

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Dorothy is the author of two books—“Miles and Miracles” and “Getting It All Together “. You can purchase a book or send a comment by emailing her at dorothybutzknight@gmail.com