Allies paper!

My father passed away January thirteenth, two thousand and four. I have missed him everyday of those four years. After a while, I found myself trying to remember him in every way I could, whether it was doing something that we used to enjoy, visiting places that we had been together, or where we had made memories. The cabin is such a place, not only for remembrance of my father, but a place where I can relax., enjoy life and be close to the ones that love me. It is a place of refuge there i can go to remember the good times, the bad times and the funny ones. It is a place of calming energy where I can just let loose and be myself.

The cabin holds a special bond between my famiy and our close family freinds. It was built with my fathers' hands and the hands of his best friend form grade school. They built it with the hope of making it a sanctuary, but it became a second home to all of us. I can remember being a kid and making that left turn onto the gravel forest path that led down Whitewater Road, knowing that in the next five minutes I would see my escape route. My three sisters and I would stumble out of our green Nissan minivan and bolt down the steeo hill to the rivers' edge where we spent day after day absorbing the river. I can still smell the fresh water, the sweet fragrance ot the flowers surrounding the yard; so sweet that I wished I could just open my mouth and that scent would overwhelm my taste buds. I can still hear the rustling of every tree in teh woods and feel the warm breeze as it brushed against my face in the hot summer sun. Even today these vivid sensations are the exact same, as if I were standing there twelve years ago. After playing around in at the riverbank, my sisters and I would hear the familiar roaring of the Berents' car climbing the hill to the driveway of the cabin. Like every other trip, we would make our way back up the hill to greet them.