We had decided to move to the country. We had lived in downtown Brattleboro too long for my blood. Every night the fire alarms would ring in my ears and I just wasn’t handling it. A house came along. Well, sort of a house. They called them yurts and they were round houses that were tied together by regular construction. That was where the kitchen was. On one end of the house, the yurts was our bedroom and the other end of the house it was our living room. Two wood stoves heated the house.
Round houses. Imagine that. Nothing could go in a corner because there wasn’t one(Would have been great when I was a child and being disciplined. Go stand in the corner…) so square furniture was struggling for space. The walls sloped outwards from the bottom, so pictures didn’t hang, they laid there. The cat could run up the walls.I got my dog, Max and a few chicks, but every time I drove in the yard(There was 15 acres.) I looked at these two round houses and thought about who thought these up.
Round houses in a square world. Life has developed what we call culture. It takes a little of everything and makes something.
As a child I always felt different because of my father’s drinking. As a follower of Jesus Christ, it did not take me long to figure out everyone was not going to be on “my team.”
Being an individual is not so much something you strive for, but it seems to be the evolution of simply being one’s self. Each day, you and I have the choice to be us…Or the choice to be someone else’s us. Being “me” is easier as there is less to remember.