My one-room log Cabin sat atop the highest hill of the Gallia County Farm. Now I had come up there to stay awhile. I had brought my blue sleeping bag and a few other items with me. I spent the night, and when I awoke the following morning, I glanced at the clock and realized I had apparently slept much too long—perhaps 14 hours. I felt groggy and wondered whether I had really slept so much. As I lay on my back in my bed, I contemplated what I was doing there.
I noticed that a fairly large plant had grown in the Cabin's dirt floor. The plant was dead, but still standing. From where I was lying on the bed, I was able to kick the plant, until I dislodged it from the ground. Finally, I stood up from the bed, picked up the plant, and threw it outside.
Once on my feet, I began sorting through a large bundle of clothes which I had apparently left in the Cabin the last time I had been there. In the bundle I found a couple sleeping bags which I thought might come in handy later. I also noticed a pair of baby shoes which resembled tiny brown brogans (only about five centimeters long). As I picked the shoes up, I heard a squeak, like a baby's toy might make. I thought about throwing the shoes away, but then I thought about how I had been making collages lately, and I decided I might be able to cut up the shoes and use the pieces on a collage.
I ruminated about what I was doing at the Cabin, and about my life in general. I still had quite a bit of money saved; I had been thinking about going to Europe and enrolling in a graduate study program—if I could decide what subject I wanted to study. I hoped to only stay in the Cabin for a short while before heading to Europe.
Suddenly, however, I realized I shouldn't go to Europe at all. Instead, I should simply stay in the Cabin and make collages. I should develop my artistic ability until I could actually sell some collages. The money I earned from the artwork could then be used for travel and living expenses.
The concept of such a life-style was a revelation to me. Every time I sold some artwork, I should set the money aside in a separate account. When I had enough money saved in the account, I could travel. If I ran out of money while traveling, I would have to return to the Cabin and create more collages to sell. I would use the Cabin as a base. I could be comfortable there. The Cabin wasn't as poor as I sometimes imagined. Looking around the Cabin again, I realized the floor was actually cement, instead of dirt. The Cabin was more than adequate to accommodate me.
I would like to implement my plan by taking a short trip as soon as possible. Perhaps I could sell enough collages to take a jaunt to Mexico. Later I could sell more collages and travel in earnest to other places.
I was so satisfied, in a gesture of thanks, I lifted my arms into the air. I thought the first thing I needed to do every morning, when I rose from sleep, was to thank God for giving me direction. I felt keenly thankful indeed.
I walked over to the window, picked up my binoculars and looked outside. Below me in the valley, I could see the Farmhouse, where a brown car had just pulled up in back. When a blonde-haired woman stepped from the car, I thought she resembled my father's temperamental second wife, Kay. That seemed a little strange, because I remembered Kay and my father had already divorced. Looking more closely, I noticed a heavy-set blond-haired fellow (probably in his early 20s) with the woman. I thought perhaps Kay had remarried, and had come to introduce her new husband to my step-grandfather Clarence and my grandmother Mabel, who were living in the Farmhouse.
Looking closer, however, I realized the woman wasn't Kay at all. In the car she had appeared to have had short hair like Kay, but now I saw the woman actually had long hair. As I watched the woman walk to the back door and shake hands with someone, I thought she must be one of my grandparents' relatives whom I had never met. I wondered if the woman might be planning to come up to the Cabin. The idea didn't particularly enthuse me.
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