A Day at the Cottage
Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep
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The Cottage Cottage
Hand me downs and fixer-uppers. That was the cottage. We had an old picnic table that was tilting slowly into the soft ground. I remembered seeing a stack of old bricks in the shed and we could use to brace the legs. And I thought of my father flipping the fabric this way and that. Then there were the beach chairs my mother and I tried to lay on. They were the kind that folded up like a trifold wallet, leaving striped marks all over your body once you managed to stand up out of them.
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