When I was a kid, my mother had to drag me, squirming and sniveling, to the bath or shower. In my reckoning, it was a waste of time. Besides, I earned every speck of dirt I wore.
Welp,
over the years, there’s been a radical reversal. I now find showering downright
pleasurable, especially at the cabin. I love showering there. It’s a mountain
luxury, and for some reason, the water feels warmer. After a day of cutting
firewood, poking along the chill creek, or tending a campfire, it lands like a
soft massage. And considering we went the first fifteen years of our long cabin-building
process without a shower or hot water, I don’t take it for granted.
Frankly,
I hate getting out of the cabin’s shower once I start. Yesterday, I stepped in
after a late afternoon of sawing Douglas fir rounds.
Pure
heaven.
After
a while, I called out, “Hey, Desi, grab my phone and come here, please.” When
she arrived, I asked her to take a G-rated picture of me in the shower. “This
is my place in the world,” I said.
Today, it’s my pleasure to share it with you.
—Mitchell
Hegman
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