Notes from Maine - 2023/01/01
Overall, I feel like this was a pretty good year, despite a couple of low points. It was tough losing Dad, but he passed at home (relatively peacefully) after beating the odds several times. I’m not sure any of us could hope for more. My sister and I purchased the camp from the estate. Dad’s wishes were that his property all be liquidated, but we were allowed to purchase it at fair market value if we wanted to keep it. He insisted that it was the only way to evenly distribute everything. My brother already owns the camp that our grandfather built, so my sister and I bought Dad’s place. We had it renovated for him a couple of years ago. It’s ready for the next 100 years. When we’re gone, my nephew can make his own decision on what to do with it.
I’ve stayed there several times. It’s a nice, isolated cabin with a pretty view and a cool lake to jump in if the temperatures get too hot. The camp is really nice when it’s pouring outside and you can listen to the rain pounding on the roof. If not for the horses, it would be perfect for me. I don’t like to leave them for too long. Horse health can change within hours, and early detection of issues is key. Maybe that’s just something I’m making up because I don’t like to leave the comfort of home. Regardless, it’s nice to have a getaway spot.
I’ve been staying in my father’s room (the room where Dad slept in my house whenever he stayed with me) while Finn recovers from knee surgery. My father’s ghost doesn’t speak to me. I can’t even remember the last time he visited in a dream. If he saw his house own now, he would be angry. We hired people to scrape all the texture from the walls. My brother and I removed the closet that partially blocked the entryway. His old stove went straight to the dump. To disconnect the gas, we had to remove the top of the stove. That’s where we found evidence of nesting mice and squirrels. I wonder if he ever turned on a burner and evicted a sleeping creature. Dad didn’t use the stove much. With all the renovation, the house will be bright, clean, and full of possibilities. It’s also devoid of all the personality that my father stamped on the place. Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t believe that Dad would be angry about the changes. He was never particularly sentimental about houses. When he was a kid, he moved around a lot. It never seemed to bother him when he sold a place, regardless of how long he lived there.
I lived in exactly one house for my first seventeen years. After I left, I only returned once or twice. I guess I wasn’t particularly sentimental either—at least about that house. It was a dangerous place, full of hazards, regrets, and sour emotions. In contrast, I don’t want to leave my current house. I intend to ride out the rest of my years here, unless something drastic happens.
The other day, we were looking at pictures of the sweet little filly who was born to Maybelle and Earl here a year go. She was such a ray of sunshine—pretty, sweet, and mischievous. I wonder if she has the capability of remembering her early life here. It’s the place where winter first turned to spring and then summer. Grass appears for the first time, right from the ground, when she was transitioning away from nursing from her mother. I saw her last month. I’m not sure that she recognizes me anymore. She’s so tall and beautiful that I hardly recognized her. At her new home, they call her Gisele. She’s a supermodel.
Lots of people came to stay this year. It’s wonderful to have company, and then nice to slip back into old routines when the house is empty as well. Although, my house is never really empty.
