The Shack
Late summer 1977,
Mom, has a new boyfriend, Terry Masten.
Although I was not sure about him at first,
he turned out to be a better man than I had guessed.
I had seen Terry hanging around Mom's friends,
for a few years, but I had never gotten to know him.
But cherry picking in the White Salmon orchards,
and spending time with Terry and his family,
had been fun.
As I was waiting for the bus
Terry, even asked if wanted to stay,
I was tempted more than I could say.
But there were just too many gaping chasms.
I needed time to heal; I just had to get away.
Besides, dad was expecting me,
everything was arranged.
So once again, I road the Greyhound north
to Everett, Washington.
Aunt Donna, her husband Bob, and Grandma Crane,
greeted me at the bus depot.
I was surprised not to see Dad there too.
We spent part of the day just having fun,
stopping at a store, grandma bought me a few things.
and then it was off to Dad's.
I was excited,
going to live with Dad.
We always had good times when we visited.
I remember him as a good father when I was a kid.
In Bob and Donna's red and white Scout,
we pulled up to the little yellow one room shack
in Machias, Washington, not the Machias, Maine.
We were there.
Dad was working on a car, like always.
With a ratchet and greasy hands,
he stopped to greet me awkwardly.
I looked back to Bob and Donna and Grandma too
they looked a bit sheepish but went on their way.
With unexpected feelings of unease
I watched them leave.
Then dad showed me where I was to stay.
The dusty couch was to be my bed.
The heaps of trash were mine to move.
My god, what have I done,
how long will I last in this place?
Well, I made my choice,
good or bad,
here I am.
By Michael A. Crane, Jr.
Original (unfinished) Version: February 12, 2000
Version 2: January 11, 2004
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