Cottage courage

Last week, we moved across town to a house on the edge of a wood. This week, we found this abandoned gem in the forest not 300 yards from our back door.

Inside is a rotting old couch, a 1950s wooden high chair, modern plastic Disney toys, and a 12-candle platter like an altar in the middle. Several pages of scribbles from a little girl named Helen, who wrote the word MUSIC several times in large childish lettering, then in a tiny controlled corner of the back of the page, “And now I know.” Underneath is a deep, cold root cellar.

I don’t know whether to claim squatter’s rights and start writing there, or keep a respectfully wide margin spooked by the backstory I’m certain it has.