Poetry

Little Red Cabin Memoirs

We’d built it in the summertime
It had started out as a fifth wheel trailer,
butted up against the northeast corner of “the lot”
Then one weekend when I was gone visiting Peggy,
a modest frame went up,
jutting out from the front of the trailer

What color should it be?
my Dad asked as we stared at the beginnings of our new home
Red, I told him
On the weekends we’d go into town to the hardware store
Mainly my Dad was buying two by fours:
pretty nude colored things that smelled good,
(I was five)
Four solid, round beams were also purchased

I felt so rich back then
My Dad was working and the men at
the hardware store treated us with much respect
We had a truck, we had a schedule, and soon we’d have a home

The cabin went up that summer
You could hardly see the fifth wheel anymore
But it was there, an important part of the structure itself,
as you can imagine
Like a champ my Dad put solar panels on the roof
And somewhere he found us a rustic wood stove
I remember us going to the fancy wood stove store but not
being able to afford one of theirs
Ours ended up being better, it wasn’t the kind you wanted to keep clean,
it was the kind you wanted to use

Under the blue of an August sky, me and my Dad painted the cabin red
I remember thinking I could be a house-painter when I grew up,
it wasn’t so hard at all!
Though my Dad had to paint the upper parts

One of the best features ended up being the bay window,
It looked out to the yard where we kept the geese and ducks
At one point, the window opened, but its been a long time
I suppose too much cold air was getting in because now theres
a bunch of caulking on it
Back when it did open, I used to sit in it and daydream
But once I leaned so far out the window that I fell out
I fell roughly two and a half feet and then the geese attacked me
I’ll never forget that

Dad and I lived there for about a decade together
Then moved to town to care for my Great Grandma Faith
After I moved away to grow up and all that
My Dad moved back up to the cabin
If people are ever looking for my Dad, they go to the cabin
Now there is no cabin
I hope he builds another one
The little red cabin was about the third cabin my Dad had built
The first two he’d built in the forest behind his childhood home in Requa
They were stunning cabins, made of alder

I have pictures

The Little Red Cabin at dusk

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