For a long time there has been a cabin in the woods. It sits on the old lane behind our house. I remember when people used to stay in it. That is to say I remember when it wasn’t broken, when it had all its windows and doors. When the owner died he left it to his son. Who had parties and neglected it, he was too young to understand the treasure he had. Yesterday, I was talking to the young man’s wife of two months and asked if she was down my road the other day. Yes she said we’re trying to fix up the cabin.
Maybe that means that step by step and day by day even though on the outside is seems like the cabin is so broken down that it will never be fixed again, that people have forgotten about it and that it appears that it can’t do what it’s supposed to do; house people, keep people safe, give them a haven. That someone sees the little heart that it has and it gets built back up. It lives again. It does what it's been built to do.