Hiya, Sixers, welcome back to another installment of Girl Under Glass for Six Sentence Sunday. This week's posting finds Rachel considering her little cabin in the Pacific Northwest woods. (We moved on Thursday, so I'm feeling a little unsettled and a lot exhausted. But, unlike Rachel, I like my old and new homes.) Thanks for reading and/or commenting; feel free to leave constructive criticism, too. And, please take the time to check out all the other fabulous writers posting at Six Sentence Sunday.
I continued down the path, but stopped at the gate to survey my home, my yard. I’d lived so enmeshed in my own struggles that I hadn’t seen reality. The dilapidated cabin’s roof failed to block the elements – rain in the spring, mosquitoes in the summer, wind in the fall, snow in the winter. The yard consisted of mud and dung and weeds. The fence sagged and bowed, held up and yanked down by blackberry vines.
The Ohnenran stood beside me, his hand on the gate, and his gaze on me.