Log cabin

“Wait, come back! You forgot to say bye.” I call Cece back to me as she starts walking through the door. She’s heading in to the school building a few blocks from our house. It’s time for her kindergarten early start program.

“Oh!” She rushes back, gives a quick hug and kiss, and quickly turns around. She’s already talking to her friends as soon as her back is to me. Such a social butterfly. “This is my future” I think to myself. My baby slowly replacing me with her friends. I try not to think about it now.

On the way home I take a short detour. It’s a beautiful summer morning that I want to enjoy a bit longer. Walking by myself is peaceful. I can finally address the many thoughts I have to push away to revisit later. I can clear my mind.

Among the eclectic mix of stone and brick and stucco houses of the neighborhood sits an old log cabin. It’s the only one of its kind. Nestled at the edge of a small patch of woods. An old stone pool in disrepair sits empty in the front yard. The weeds growing where families once spent long days of summer like this one.

There’s a juxtaposition between the pool and the recently restored home. Serving as a reminder of decades past.

I stop for a few moments to admire the craftsmanship of the home. Then I continue on my way.