Feels like home

Turning off the highway onto a snowy street into the woods heading for our cabin I was struck by how much this place resembles where I was born. I was just recently back for my father's funeral in that small town a few miles over the hills from the farm.

The cabin is also in the woods, a few hilly miles from a smallish provincial town about half the size of the place I was born. A horse-driven sled would have been more appropriate for the journey than a car that night. Weaving up and down, left and right, in and out of thick woods, the parallels to Western Pennsylvania are evident.

Getting out of the car to the deafening sound of silence, then picking up the wind and an owl - yes, I think that's why I like this place so much. It feels like home.