It’s late spring and I am ecstatic to spend a weekend with my family at the cabin located somewhere in Northern Oklahoma. I pack everything, which is hardly anything of importance. I love to somewhat rough it. I’m ready to go and I jump in the back seat next to my sister, taking a good book out of my bag for the two hour drive. We arrive at the log cabin around lunchtime and my mother insists we eat before any venturing. I’m not hungry because I rarely eat and I’m a teenage girl.
I grab my duffel bag and rush to the first room I can, only to learn that I get the pullout couch, near the wood burning stove. I don’t care. It will make it easier to grab my coffee in the morning and go out on the deck.
My mother turns on the stereo blaring Alabama and we find ourselves singing obnoxiously to the hits. My favorite then was Mountain Music. With lunch on the table, we hurriedly eat so we can explore the forest surrounding us. It had been a year since the last time we were here.
My sister and I run down the old rusted stairway along the path that led to the lake. We jump on the dock, laughing. The sun is beaming keeping us warm and we plop down on the deck, soaking up the rays talking about school and boys and chores we don’t like doing.
I lay down on the dock, loving the warmth of the sun, having not a single care in the world. My only worry is whether or not I passed the exam we took on Friday and if Johnny was interested in me.
The sun began to fade and we journeyed back up and join our mother for a casual evening of hot cocoa and s’mores. She would tell us ghost stories and see who would scare easily, which was me. I was such a chicken.
It was an enjoyable time and I so long to find my way back to that cabin to feel the serenity I felt then.
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