It may not seem like much; but to me, it holds my childhood, my present, and my children's future memories. All at once. They are seperate, yet entangled.
You can only get there, if you know the way.
And even if you knew where it was, you may drive right past it without second glance. The paint is chipping and the cushions are worn in... but to me... i like it. I like that its old. I like that my great-grandparents spent months every summer building and painting. These four walls hold something magical to my Gill- born- heart. And they do to my brothers as well, I can feel it when we are all there together, like something magic in the universe has happened to bring our paths to cross again at this ancient stomping ground.
A place where things treasured, may not seem like much to someone on the outside, but hold meaning and value.
Its a place where aunts and uncles, learn how to be moms and dads.
Its the place we brought our boyfriends and girlfriends and went on walks together to make-out in the woods... and the place we return as spouses after a walk down the aisle.
This is where 8 used to be an adress to your fancy tree fort in the woods, where you made waffles in an ice cube tray out of pinecone debris, and coffee for the boys from rusted cans. The cans are still there and the fact that they are still there, out in the woods, all year long in our little fort brings me back to my childhood faster than any family movie.
This is where stories start with a simple hike and end with police and search dogs and possible starvation... they are over-exaggerated ... but we love them all the same. Cause we are Gills' and we over-exaggerate when we tell stories.
Its a place where every time you come, you see and experience something new...
And its the place that was passed to us, and we continue the tradition by passing it on to the next generation.
This is my family cabin.
And these are the people that I continue to build summer memories with.
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