A one room cabin in the woods

My dad used to say that's where he wanted to live. At that young time in my life I didn't understand why he wasn't thrilled to be with us at home! What was his problem? Of course as you age you live, you learn, you become a bottomless pit of wisdom. Now it's me who wouldn't mind a one room cabin in the woods. Alone. Almost all alone. I would be taking Billy with me. At one of many therapist visits, yes I've been in therapy, told me to make my own space. Take a room in the house and make it yours. I did that and I liked it. So what happened? I have no idea. All of a sudden it was the dining room again. The table was covered with newspapers, boxes, bills, magazines and catalogs. It was no longer serene and quiet. It was cluttered up just like my brain. Half open drawers, cobwebs, memories peeking out from behind the frontal lobe. Remember me? No, but you look vaguely familiar. I push the drawer shut and ten minutes later run back to it and say, "YES! I remember you." By then a different face is popping out and I'm lost again. Perchance, funny word entry, when you are alone in that cabin relaxing, so are the thoughts, ideas and worries that were running around in your head before. I doubt it. They are gathered in the back hiding behind the occipital lobe. Making plans, scheming. They can hardly wait for you to close your eyes. They laugh because they know you are really enjoying the sound of rain on the trees. The feel of a cool breeze through the window. Mr. and Mrs. Memory call out for everyone to gather round. "On the count of three", they whisper, "everyone yell surprise." One, two, three. You are blown out of bed wondering what the hell was that? You aren't sure and you're a little uneasy now. You decide that being alone isn't what you thought it would be. "Come on, Billy. Let's go home.