The Cabin
It had a life of its own, that cabin. We used to sit out on the porch and watch the storms come and go,watch the animals make furiously for shelter, beyond the bushes, to the canopy of leaves and branches. We had a canoe, and we explored, every inlet and each peninsula was a part of home. We spent more time outside of that house than we did inside. But it was a home, nonetheless. We took that picture from the third inlet to the left of the island that we explored the first weekend there. I knew that we had to remember, if we didn't, we wouldn't be happy. But we couln't remember it, at least not for now. We had to forget. I was pregnant after three months of visits, and we were content with our surroundings. It would be tough though, being a mother. We would have to teach our little Benjamin all of the inlets and islands and peninsulas that we had discovered together. Jacob built another room onto the house, for Ben. We built a mini canoe together, for him, since ours would only fit two people. I guess, in hindsight, he could have sat on my lap, but making another canoe had seemed the right thing to do then. As the time passed, and I grew rounder, my love for this baby grew. I knew he would be beautiful. I went to the hospital, and Benjamin was born. We took him back to the cabin, and he grew to love it, the intricate coastline, the lovely murky green water, teeming with life. He loved to canoe along side us. We used to slow down so he could get ahead of us and then race him to Ben's Isle. We named it after him. But all I will ever have from the cabin is this picture. You see, when Benny drowned, I burned it to the ground.