A poem about the cabin

I am from Ramblers Roost.
I am from cupboards that don't close in the summer, that slam shut in the winter.
I am from chilling watermelons in the Rogue River and hauling buckets of water.
I am from sleeping in until Dad calls out "The French toast is ready!"
I am from crossword puzzles in the sun in the yard in a lawn chair.
I am from loving my family.

I remember the feeling of turning down the cabin road, entering a sanctuary, traveling over God's creation of a soft bed of pine needles.
I remember cross-country skiing, bike riding, hiking, driving...sleeping.
I remember playing Hand & Foot until the deck ran out, and then playing again.
I remember waiting for the last log to burn out, signaling time to go to bed.
I remember never being scared, like being at the cabin was like being in your own skin.

Every time, it is restoration for mind, body, soul & family.
One day my family will come here.

I wrote this poem about a year ago, lost it though, and have been looking for it since. In anticipation of our cabin trip in a few weeks I have searched a little harder, and I found it today! Living in the Portland area we don't get to the cabin as often as we would like. But we are so excited to take Levi this summer for his first time!! Last year when we went to the cabin Levi was with us, but only a few people knew about him at the time (I think I was like 10 weeks pregnant). I wrote this about 2 weeks after I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to share it with you.