The Traveling Cabin

Bob was bored. That’s a good thing because when boys get bored, they start to think. And when boys start to think . . . anything can happen.

Perched on his seat in study hall, Bob was not thinking about numbers. He needed a place of his own, a place that belonged to him, and where he fully belonged.

Bob’s doodling turned to sketching. Bigger than a tool shed, stronger than a lean-to. Suddenly, Bob was thinking about numbers.

As always, his granddad was waiting to hear about his day. Ampie listened intently. Staring at the sketch, his grandpa began to think. Grandpas are boys with more practice thinking.

Ampie looked him in the eye. “Bob, if we’re building, let’s build it to last. We can erect a log cabin like the one Grandfather Oliver lived in as a boy.” Suddenly, Ampie was thinking numbers, grand size numbers. “We’ll build it in the Old Growth Forest.”

Bob’s eyes widened. Old Growth Forest was their family’s name for ten acres at the back of the farm. Ampie never allowed anyone to cut down even one tree. He always said people needed a bit of earth that still looked like it did the day God created it.