My Battle with Reality and Sentimentality

A conversation over Thanksgiving has me sad.

My family cottage has its' days numbered.

Well...I guess to be fair...it's really only my mom and dad that have the cottage.  They've been kind enough to share it with my brother and I for the last 30 years.

I want you to picture it.  It's a log cabin in the woods (not entirely UNLIKE that cottage from Evil Dead...but you know...without the haunting).  The smell of pine there is strong enough to make you forget how sore your back is from the long drive.  The deck is built slightly above the rock fire pit, and about 30 feet from a steep cliff down to the lake.  To the right, a beaten path leading to 52 steps down to the dock.

It's very simple, but with every comfort you could want (especially an indoor toilet...number 2's are best suited for indoors come autumn).

My dad announced that he and my mom are starting to get older, and not sure how much longer visiting "The Cottage" is feasible for them.  After a lengthy conversation, and my brother and I in no financial position to buy it from them, we had to give in, and admit they should sell it when they were ready.

My heart broke.

I've never thought of myself as overly sentimental, but I did find myself with a lump in my throat at the thought of "The Cottage" vanishing as a phrase in my life.

It's my first real battle between reality and sentimentality. 

For me, "The Cottage" will always hold a special definition.

It's a place that, as a young boy, I learned that if you're able to catch a toad, it sticks to your older brother's tummy.

It was a place that I learned how to filet a fish....even to catch a fish.  Also, Pike tastes MUCH better than Bass.

It's a place I learned the difference between an Oak, and a Bass tree.  And why Bass trees make lousy firewood (You just can't get a hot fire with bass wood).

It's a place that inspired my grandpa to paint, and my parents hang one of those paintings proudly in their living room.

It's a place that inspired, even me, to wake up and watch a sunrise.

It's a place with nights so dark you can see satellites up in space, and days so relaxed doing "nothing" is the right thing to do.

It's a place that taught me to be happy with what you have, because it's a LONG drive into town to get something else.

Even though I'm not sure about kids in my future...for some reason, I always saw my kids learning the same things I did at "The Cottage".

If I have to find a silver lining, it's going to be that knowing the end of "The Cottage" is imminent, I'll enjoy my last few trips to "The Cottage" all the more. 

So, as sad is it makes me to say it.  Look out fish, your days are numbered because of this...that is, if I finish doing "nothing" first, and get around to picking up some bait.

If not...and I have to sit there, enjoying a breeze, and clear air.  I guess that's just fine too.