Farewell to the Quonset Hut

Farewell to the Quonset Hut
October 22, 1995

I'm sitting in the Quonset hut which has been my home for the last thirteen years. The fire is hot, it's raining outside, and the teakettle will soon be whistling. There's a pile of stuff by the door that I'll move out tonight. Three nights ago, we slept here for the last time.

I'm truly ready for a new house, for running water, central heat, and the comforts most American take for granted. For years upon years, it's been one of the deepest longings of my heart to have a real home. Still, as I leave this little hut, it's hard to say goodbye. It sheltered me from blinding winter blizzards, bitter cold, torrential rain. I remember the peace and silky silence of so many mornings, and the soft pattering of raindrops on the metal roof as I dropped off to sleep at night. Its simplicity freed Dennis and me to pursue dreams, explore the world, and turn visions and ideas into reality. A lot of memories were made here, both good and bad.

While the events of the world swirled around, this little place stayed basically the same, providing an anchor of security. We lived in a time warp, connected at once to the lifestyles of today and of the past century. This humble abode kept us humble. Starting a fire every morning and hauling water each week for years upon years made us appreciate small blessings in ways I doubt we'll ever forget.

For me, this little Quonset hut has been a part of my identity. It gave me what I valued most--independence, simplicity, security and freedom. As much as I look forward to sharing a real house with my husband, I can't help but feel gratitude for the blessing this tiny shelter has been, and sadness as this long chapter of life comes to an end.