I’m taking a few days to visit our little cabin on the bay in ESVA. This an actual photo of the sunset as it often looks at the end of the day at our cabin.
Husband is at home working. It’s not lost on me what a privileged life I have. And to think I want to go back to work! Silly me :)
When I say the cabin is little, I mean 18X20. Glorified camping is how my cousin describes it. The cabin was my father’s and before that my Grandmother’s. I took my first steps in this cabin. One of my cousin’s children took her first steps here too. Lifetimes of family memories contained in one small space.
My uncle has a place here, my aunt has two places; one is used by my cousin and her family. It’s unique. It’s special. It’s one of the most beautiful places I know. It’s quiet. It has unending views of the bay. I’m friends with my neighbor, her mother was a friend of my mother and her grandmother was a friend of my grandmother.
And believe it or not, infertility follows me even to this beautiful place. It’s never far away. See, my children won’t ever be here. My children won’t be friends with my cousin’s kids. I won’t be old and watch my grandkids jump off the same dock I did. My saving grace is found in having nephews. They don’t get here often, but boy do I love it when the do! The oldest seems to have the same attachment to this place as I do. I’ve also developed a strong relationship with my cousin’s daughters. It’s never the same as having your own, but it does lighten the pain a bit. In fact it adds a pleasure I wouldn’t have known if I had children of my own. My cabin is sometimes the choice to hang out at. No parents you see. Four kids and a deck of cards looking for a parent free zone to play in; lot’s of soda and candy at Cousin Becky’s. And the parents know the kids are safe. Works well for all!
Got to find the blessings where one can.
When I say the cabin is little, I mean 18X20. Glorified camping is how my cousin describes it. The cabin was my father’s and before that my Grandmother’s. I took my first steps in this cabin. One of my cousin’s children took her first steps here too. Lifetimes of family memories contained in one small space.
My uncle has a place here, my aunt has two places; one is used by my cousin and her family. It’s unique. It’s special. It’s one of the most beautiful places I know. It’s quiet. It has unending views of the bay. I’m friends with my neighbor, her mother was a friend of my mother and her grandmother was a friend of my grandmother.
And believe it or not, infertility follows me even to this beautiful place. It’s never far away. See, my children won’t ever be here. My children won’t be friends with my cousin’s kids. I won’t be old and watch my grandkids jump off the same dock I did. My saving grace is found in having nephews. They don’t get here often, but boy do I love it when the do! The oldest seems to have the same attachment to this place as I do. I’ve also developed a strong relationship with my cousin’s daughters. It’s never the same as having your own, but it does lighten the pain a bit. In fact it adds a pleasure I wouldn’t have known if I had children of my own. My cabin is sometimes the choice to hang out at. No parents you see. Four kids and a deck of cards looking for a parent free zone to play in; lot’s of soda and candy at Cousin Becky’s. And the parents know the kids are safe. Works well for all!
Got to find the blessings where one can.
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