The Cabin on Lake Arrowhead WC 245

The Cabin on Lake Arrowhead
WC 245

My husband, Carl, and I were alone at our cabin on Lake Arrowhead. In the past, our daughter, Emily, came with us, but now that she is sixteen, she doesn't want to come up here.

“Mom, there's nothing to do! And you know how Dad gets!” She’s a typical teenager.

Carl was rummaging around in the hall closet while I was turning on the lights.

“It's not here,” he said.

“What are you looking for, honey?”

“It's not here.”

“Maybe I know where it is. What is it, Carl?”

“What is what?”

“What you're looking for?”

“I'm not looking for anything!”

Agitated, Carl slammed the closet door, went over to the bank of windows, and just stood there looking out on the pines.

"What a view," he said, finally.

We bought the cabin all those years ago for the view and it never disappoints.

“It is so beautiful, especially as the sun sets, I said.

"Where are we, anyway?" he said.

Carl was declining rapidly.

Doctor Corbett said we might have a few good months left, but early-onset Alzheimer's is unpredictable. I prayed we could have one last quality weekend at the cabin.

“Can we get into trouble?” he asked.

I picked up my purse.

“Maybe we should go, just in case.”

“Good idea, especially if we’re trespassing.”

I turned off the lights, guided him out of the cabin, and locked the door.

We drove back down the mountain for the last time.