Thursday, September 8, 2011

Road Trip The Arrival


I pulled into the only open spot of the property.  Property  that has otherwise and rightfully been left wild.  Thanks to Mom, no leaf blowers and weed whackers here.  Much to the dismay of the human neighbors, she knows we are leaving a footprint but wants the footprint to be as small as possible.  For almost four decades I’ve never cared what the human neighbors thought and I think they are finally starting to get that.

It was cat’s light.  That magic time between dusk and twilight.  That, anything goes time of day, when you just might see the stray elf or pixie.   Before I had my second foot down on the ground a brush crashing non human neighbor, a doe, came bounding by startling me.  At that moment it seemed the only magic this evening was going to be how to clean my underwear with no washing machine.

As I mentioned previously turning the water on was a boring adventure.  Finally, while holding a flash light in my mouth the luke warm beam of light allowed the universe to come together and long metal tool grabbed small metal valve and there was water.  Note to self, flashlight batteries.

Water on, hot water heater on, electric on and all my stuff inside I started to unload my ice chest.  It was still very odd to be here by myself until I started to get the feeling I wasn’t here by myself.  The cabin is an old a frame and because of the incredible view of river and mountain the entire front wall is glass.  Beyond the glass is a little deck perhaps eight foot wide and three steps leading down to the little path that gets you to the river. 

Loading the refrigerator means my back is facing that wall of glass.  Glass that anything can get through including the psychotic axe murders I’ve never seen but to this day I’m positive roam the woods intent on doing me harm.  Knowing one of these miscreants was poised and ready to break through the glass I turned and…saw a young buck standing at the steps staring at me surely wondering what I was doing.  We stood staring at each other for minutes.  It was truly a Carlos Castaneda moment sans the peyote.  Apparently, staring at him bored him to tears and the buck turned and walked off, well sauntered actually.

I did the mundane things one does in the evening later finding myself reading at a little table large enough for two but tonight only full by half.  The table is a favorite spot of mine as it sits close enough to the window you could be as close to outside possible when you had to be inside.

I looked up from my book contemplating the coming day with excited anticipation while filled with trepidation of the night in front of me.  That’s when the ghosts showed up.

Alive and passed they all showed up.  Not all at once of course.  Though the cabin isn’t petite there is no way it could hold five generations of memories at once.  Much of my life has happened in this place and very few times was there sadness in this place.  To be sure there were times when the occupants might have had a strained relationship, a sad memory of sometime else someplace else but for most of the countless hours the cabin protected its inhabitants they were happy hours.

I count myself fortunate beyond belief to have this place to come to.  Even though, for the last twenty five months, I can’t help but think each time I leave if I’ll ever be back.  I’m trying to teach myself not to think like that.  A skill I haven’t quite achieved but work at diligently.  But even with that thought, and the axe murders roaming the forest intent on my harm the space put me at peace as it always does

So I sat and let the ghosts roam about until my eyes grew heavy.  I left them on their own and wandered off to bed.  I was looking forward to what tomorrow would bring.

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