We lived out in the middle of nowhere in a cabin, surrounded by trees, that my dad and my grandfather built. I remember every inch of this place, though I haven’t been in it in more than five years. I remember my grandfather’s collection of books that was completely covered in dust from not being used. I remember his workshop, covered in saw dust, he created so many neat projects in this workshop, including my Barbie house that had a elevator (you pulled on a string and it would pull up the elevator). We had a barrel wood stove that I burned my hand on when my brother called my grandpa’s dog, Ace, over and he accidentally pushed me into the stove one morning while I was getting ready for school. I hated having to bring wood up from the wood shed at night, in the middle of winter, I would always drag my brother with me when it was my turn to bring up wood, so the coyotes wouldn’t get me, I was so freaked out about coyotes, though I had only seen them a handful of times. We would spend all summer stacking wood that my dad had chopped, we would spend from about the middle of June to the end of August and some years even longer, stacking wood, all of this just so we would have enough to last through the winter. I remember the Jack the snowplow driver who every time blocked our car in. I remember we lived so far out in the middle of nowhere that we had to get up at 5 AM to be at the bus stop by 6 for an hour bus ride into school, I finished many books on this long bus ride.
My grandparent’s lived in a little blue house across the driveway from us. We had two driveways, one to the front door of my grandparent’s and then one up to ours. We did Christmas and Thanksgiving at my grandparents place. This place was where we would get together and do holidays. We would do Christmas cookies, candies, fudge, and many different kinds of candies every year in my grandmother’s kitchen. We had our tree set up in my grandparent’s front room. We opened presents with my grandparent’s. We even did Easter at my grandparent’s place. This is the place we all called “home” even when we didn’t live here. We used to joke that it when we lived away from my grandparent’s that we were at our “home away from home.”
There was this one time my mom was at work, and my dad had forgotten that we got released from school early and had forgotten to come get us at the bus stop so my brother and I had to walk up the mountain we lived on, it was about a mile up. My brother was in the in the fourth grade and I was in the second. It took us about an hour to walk up the hill and I remember my mom was so livid that my dad had forgotten to come get us. We walked part of the way up with my brothers friend Al, and they teased me the whole way, and then my brother apologized after it was just me and him saying that he didn’t mean any of it, he was just trying to seem cool in front of his friends. He ended up feeling so bad that he carried me part way up the mountain.