She’s almost 47 years old and still the baby of the family. She realizes now how right they all were when they said she would always be the baby. The last born, and the youngest of the siblings.
It’s been almost ten months since her dad died suddenly of a heart attack. The guilt and the grief have abated only a bit.
Guilt because even though she couldn’t have done anything for him she still feels like she should have been there. Maybe somehow she could have seen it coming. The grief is bone deep and devastating.
As much as she’d like to have him back, she’s thankful that he no longer suffers the pain he dealt with all his life. And even more thankful that when the time of his death arrived, he was exactly where he wanted to be. In the home he built just a few hundred yards away from the site where the house he was born in stood.
She has many wonderful memories, some stand out more than others. One in particular stands out. It’s helping her dad build the outhouse.
Long before he built the house he would retire to he built a one room cabin that sat close to the private road. At the time there was no running water down there in the middle of the woods. Therefore the closest bathroom was about five miles away. So basically if you had to go, you went in the woods.
It’s a blistering hot day everyone is busy putting the finishing touches on the cabin. Besides herself everyone includes her mom, sister, her two brothers and their wives. She sees her dad collecting and stacking scrap lumber out behind the cabin. Curious she walks over to him.
“Daddy what are you doing?”
He grins through the sweat poring down his face. “I’m gonna build an outhouse.”
She’s a young woman in her twenties and has never known anything but indoor plumbing. She is repulsed by the idea of an outhouse.
“But why?”
He jerks his thumb back toward the cabin and says, “Cause I’m tired of you womenfolk complaining about having to go in the woods.” Then he laughs at the look on her face. She grins back.
“Well it’s not our fault that we can’t stand there and pee off the cabin porch like the men can.”
He hands her a hammer and some nails. “Here you can help me.” At her look of mortification he laughs. “Come on, I’ll bet your knowledge of building an outhouse will be valuable to you later in life.”
She finds that it’s surprisingly easy to build an outhouse and before long it’s almost finished. Her dad disappears into the shed, then comes back out again carrying not one, but two toilet seats. She’s puzzled.
“Why do you have two toilet seats?”
He begins to screw the seats into place. “Because when I was growing up if you had a two seater outhouse you were considered rich. Besides I don’t want you women to have to wait in line out here.” This time it is she who laughs.
Years later after her parents built their retirement home her dad said he was going to tear the outhouse down, but she begged him not to. So he removed the toilet seats and hauled the outhouse behind the shed. He found that it was a good place to store his rakes and shovels.
Her dad is gone now and she feels the pain of that loss every day of her life. But when she goes “home” to visit the outhouse and her memories are still there.
READER'S REVIEWS (6) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
" What a sweet memory. " -- AG, Oklahoma, USA.
"That was amazingly sweet!" -- Kim.
" This brought tears to my eyes. You truly write very well." -- F.G., Houston, USA.
" What a truly lovely and touching story. And very well written." -- MS, Pennsylvania, USA.
"This is a wonderful piece. Such a loving tribute to your dad. You write so well. " -- CJ, Iowa.
"I am at a loss. I agree w/everyone, you write really well." -- MS, Washington.
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