dad's cabin.
we haven't been up to the cabin at all this year yet. i've not been up since the first day of buck season last year. dad's appt was the next day. and as we were sitting up there that night, it was a really strained evening. it wasn't fun. the monster was in everyone's line of sight. and not a one of us wanted to acknowledge it. i knew that night as we were sitting there, that this was the last hunting season with dad, and the last first night of buck season cabin supper.
we haven't used the cabin all summer. not once. too many memories i guess. no one even suggested going to the cabin. when beth emailed me to invite me, i wasn't sure i wanted to go.
it rained today. dave had invited another family up to the cabin, and mom, jon, and i. any other time he/dad would have made the decision that it was too wet to go up. but i think that dave must have gotten it into his head that it was time to go up, and nothing was changing his mind. so we were up tonight. rain and all. muddy trail and all.
i left work a bit early. kathy came in at 6 for me.
i called dave's cell as i came into town. they'd send someone down to get me. when i got back to mom's i parked in my usual spot. hoont gey veck was on the porch. he was laying in front of the door. and by the time i parked, he had stood up in the same spot. i petted his head, and came on in, and looked out the window. and he had laid back down again. and i got this sudden impression that he had greeted me in dad's place. like dad used to do. strong impression.
the dog is going to die. it's obvious. and soon. he prob has a cancer as well. they got him when dad had his colon cancer 10 yrs ago. he's a german shepherd/collie mix and he's the best groundhog dog, or was. mom said the day after the funeral, the dog came into the kitchen, stood there looking, turned around and went back out onto the porch. then he turned back around, came back into the kitchen, looked over to the corner again, and he sighed and went back out. the dog has never been inside the house before. he always refused to come in, even when dad would call him. he never came in. and he's not been inside since. the door can stand open, and he never goes thru that door.
after i got up there, beth said, "look at what krista found. we're keeping it as a souvenir." she found it tucked in the back of the sink. it was a white styrofoam cup with RAY written on it. in dad's handwriting. he'd have used it during hunting season. so during the evening, i'd look up at that cup. they set it up on top of the cupboard, so it's almost as if he was looking over us all. and i sat in the chair, looking around. the cabin was dad's pride and joy.
it was 10 00 before anyone made any move to leave. i don't think that any of us were wanting to make that first move. it's almost as if now that we've broken the ice, we couldn't get out.
we haven't used the cabin all summer. not once. too many memories i guess. no one even suggested going to the cabin. when beth emailed me to invite me, i wasn't sure i wanted to go.
it rained today. dave had invited another family up to the cabin, and mom, jon, and i. any other time he/dad would have made the decision that it was too wet to go up. but i think that dave must have gotten it into his head that it was time to go up, and nothing was changing his mind. so we were up tonight. rain and all. muddy trail and all.
i left work a bit early. kathy came in at 6 for me.
i called dave's cell as i came into town. they'd send someone down to get me. when i got back to mom's i parked in my usual spot. hoont gey veck was on the porch. he was laying in front of the door. and by the time i parked, he had stood up in the same spot. i petted his head, and came on in, and looked out the window. and he had laid back down again. and i got this sudden impression that he had greeted me in dad's place. like dad used to do. strong impression.
the dog is going to die. it's obvious. and soon. he prob has a cancer as well. they got him when dad had his colon cancer 10 yrs ago. he's a german shepherd/collie mix and he's the best groundhog dog, or was. mom said the day after the funeral, the dog came into the kitchen, stood there looking, turned around and went back out onto the porch. then he turned back around, came back into the kitchen, looked over to the corner again, and he sighed and went back out. the dog has never been inside the house before. he always refused to come in, even when dad would call him. he never came in. and he's not been inside since. the door can stand open, and he never goes thru that door.
after i got up there, beth said, "look at what krista found. we're keeping it as a souvenir." she found it tucked in the back of the sink. it was a white styrofoam cup with RAY written on it. in dad's handwriting. he'd have used it during hunting season. so during the evening, i'd look up at that cup. they set it up on top of the cupboard, so it's almost as if he was looking over us all. and i sat in the chair, looking around. the cabin was dad's pride and joy.
it was 10 00 before anyone made any move to leave. i don't think that any of us were wanting to make that first move. it's almost as if now that we've broken the ice, we couldn't get out.
posted by ry @ 12:17 AM
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