Snow angrily
cascaded down from the grey sky, it pounded the cabin with icy fists. The wintry
wind howled like a phantom against the kitchen windows as I made my way down
the claustrophobic hallway. I reached the area between the basement door and
the undersized living-room. The cold linoleum sent shivers from my bare feet
all the way up my spine. The bottom of my too long, red plaid pajama pants
tickled the top of my toes when I shuttered. I stepped into the room and let
the itchy green carpet warm up my lower half as I sighed.
The
commotion from the living-room beckoned me to leave the comfort of my temporary
room to find the source.
“Come
on, don’t fail me now,” my grandfather bellowed dramatically as he hit the side
of the T.V with his fist. His blue veins were seen through his almost
translucent skin and stretched over his pale knuckles. Static danced across the
large grey screen as he fussed over it. The bulky box was putting up a decent
fight.
I rolled
my eyes, “Popop, hitting it won’t help,” I said.
He scoffed and barely bothered to look my way.
“This, coming from the girl who used to blow inside her video game packs when
they didn’t work,” he mumbled.
“Cartridges, they are
called cartridges and blowing in them worked,” I defended. “Abusing the T.V
will only make things worse,” I said.
My
grandmother sucked in a breath and made a whistling sound with her teeth. That
was her way of acknowledging that she agreed with me. She was seated in the
brown, always squeaky, rocking chair in the corner. She was holding one of her
handheld Solitaire game and stared down at it through her half moon shaped
glasses.
I rolled
my eyes at my grandfather and snaked them back over towards the windows facing
the back of the cabin.
The wind
blew the snow in an almost horizontal direction. Large frozen flakes covered
the porch, but inside was warm. I thawed my icy feet on the prickly carpet that
still had darker streaks in some areas from the earlier vacuuming.
We
finally settled down after unpacking our things from our house in Allentown.
Being a typical day in the winter season, the sun had already begun to set at only
5:30pm. It left a beautiful array of yellows and oranges streaming through the
blinds.
“We are
lucky we got here before the snow really hammered down,” grandma said.
“Definitely,”
I said before I let a yawn escape my lips. The day had been long, and it felt oddly
anticlimactic considering I was in one of my favorite places on earth.
About two
times a year my family and I take a trip to our cabin in the Poconos, located
within walking distance from Lake Wallenpaupack. There is no cell phone
service, and only about twelve television channels. Despite this, we love it. Or at least we used to. Being
here always used to feel like a cozy hug from an old friend. The kind of friend
you could count on, even if you haven’t spoken in years.
The scenery here was beautiful all year around.
In the fall, loose leaves covered the trails, hiding them under a blanket of
bright colors. In the summer, the beauty of the lake could take my breath away.
The way it rippled in a light breeze made it looked like a stock photo
featuring a happy family fishing and smiling. I never got tired of staring at
the sun reflected in its surface. Unfortunately, the lake was now completely
frozen over. Sometimes, my grandfather, sister and I would walk across it to
the small islands located nearby. When we got tired of walking, my grandfather
would pull us behind him in our rust colored sled. The sled still has the
remains of my father’s initials JRH, written on the underside in faded black
sharpie.
Being in
the Delaware State Park, the cabin is about a 20-minute drive from any real
civilization, so my family doesn’t have a choice but to connect with each
other. When I was little, my sister and I would play games like “Guess who,”
Connect Four,” and, “SORRY.” If it was nice out, we would explore the woods
until my grandma called us back for lunch. Back before cell phones, we had to
rely on walkie talkies for communication. We were always warned, “Don’t go
farther then the last fishing dock near the park.”
What did
we do? We went so far past the park we could have reached New Jersey. Some of
the best memories were the summers I spent at the cabin. Despite the humidity,
ticks, and noxious smell of bug spray that never failed to somehow get in my
mouth.
Right
now, I was on winter break, so I had the next six days off. The cabin groaned
like a tired old man. It was built in the 70’s and always made some sort of
strange noise. Sometimes, when I waked on the carpet, it would make a crinkling
noise. That signature crunch under underfoot was as familiar to me as my own
voice.
I can
hear another sound, like a soft sigh, coming from the fridge in the kitchen as I
stood with my back facing it. I glanced in the direction over my right shoulder
before finally sitting on the brown sofa. The leather whined under my weight,
the spot was already indented from many years of use.
I curled
my feet under me as I sat beside my sister who was paying more attention to her
drawing pad than anything else.
She was two years older then me and her
stringy chestnut hair grazed the paper as she scribbled feverishly. The side of
her right hand was smeared with traces of graphite where her skin made contact
with the substance.
I leaned
my head against the back of the couch, the spot was still cold as it waited for
my body heat to warm its surface. The leather felt like smooth, milky skin
under my legs as I stared at the dusty ceiling fan. The gilded chain that hangs
from the light always makes a soft clink whenever it’s turned on. That sound
always reminded me of the summertime.
But now,
with the snow falling outside, the fan was dead still. If I concentrated, I could
hear the crackling of the firewood downstairs. The smell of the burning wood
wrapped around me like a blanket. The entire building was only about 700 square
feet. The cabin was so familiar, so why didn’t I feel the excitement like I
used to? I longed to pull out my cell phone and log into Myspace and connect
with my friends. The “No Signal” in the top corner left an itch I couldn’t
scratch.
“Ah ha.
I got it!” My grandfather said triumphantly as the T.V sputtered to life and
the picture of John O’ Hurley on Family Feud appeared on the screen.
That was
my last chance to escape back into my room until dinner. I didn’t have the “the
T.V isn’t working anyway” excuse anymore. If I got up now, my grandfathers accomplishment
and efforts would be for nothing.
A
gnawing started under my ribcage, the feeling of elation and relaxation that
usually washed over me failed to make an appearance. My computer was left
behind along with the cable box.
“I
better preheat the oven for dinner.” my grandmother stood up from her chair and
stretched her arms over her head. Her black Hush Puppies left little patterns
in the carpet with each step to the kitchen.
I loved
the time we had together here, and I loved how the cabin used to be more than
just wood and stone. It was laughter and tears, it was my childhood. The
gnawing sadness turned to guilt. Could I force myself to have a good time just
because I would feel bad if I didn’t have fun? I didn’t want my grandparents to
feel like I was too old to come to the cabin with them. And I certainly wasn’t
going to admit it to myself.
In four
days we would be packed up and heading back to the city anyway. I only felt
half ready to finish out the remainder of my sophomore year.
Just then,
the resonance of the cabin settling filled the room, it overshadowed the noise
of Family Feud. The hums and sighs echoed through the living room.
“It
sounds like the cabin is breathing,” my grandfather said as he sat down on the
sofa next to me.
I smiled
outwardly, but felt a frown developing deep within the roots of my face.
“Yes, it
does,” I forced.
No
matter how familiar and comforting these sounds were, something just didn’t
feel the same. The habitual smell of the burning firewood downstairs, the sound
of the cabin settling, or my grandfather sitting beside me didn’t make a
difference.
I missed
my friends, my boyfriend, and my phone service. Board games, exploring the
woods, and watching Family Feud didn’t seem all that appealing anymore. As I
listened to my grandmother fuss around putting a pizza into the oven, I
wondered, would the cabin ever feel the same again?
