Back in the Cabin

On the third day with not enough sleep, I was looking forward to getting back to the cabin, although I wasn’t overjoyed about fording the creek. As it turned out, we got underway late, spent some time with Dennis’ parents, and then I left with Dennis dropping me off in the bush.

I’ve invaded on their Christmas enough, and it is time to return to my life of writing and thinking. It is nice that they are so willing to share their family, and they even got me a sock full of gifts, but in some ways I belong here more than anywhere else.

The creek was relatively easy to ford, the water scarcely higher than it has been lately, and after Dennis threw over my dry boots, I slipped out of the wet ones and garbage bags and walked home.

When I arrived I set up water for a shower, and started a fire to warm the place. Interestingly, the porch was warmer than the cabin since the day was sunny. I took a shower and had something to eat and soon I was nearly napping as the fire threw out heat. I am glad to let the family have their family time although I am grateful they allow me a space in their familial bliss. They plan to come here in a couple of days anyway, and then we can hang out some more.

About Barry Pomeroy

I had an English teacher in high school many years ago who talked about writing as something that people do, rather than something that died with Shakespeare. I began writing soon after, maudlin poetry followed by short prose pieces, but finally, after years of academic training, I learned something about the magic of the manipulated word.
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