The road, partly dry and wet from the snow drying under the warming winter sun, parted the snowy banks of Indiana fields. We rolled to a brief stop under the Union Chapel and Tonkel intersection. A dirty silver Chevy pick-up rolled around the corner. It was loaded with a dryer and other bulky household possessions, which were tied unprofessionally with a ruthless red cord. It stirred visions of a February morning seven years ago just post a winter storm.

We were having to move quickly, and had just found the perfect God-send of homesteads. It was a little house on the prairie: Newly built in the 1870's and sat at the frontier of four paradisiacal acres. I was just a head strong foolish goose of twenty-seven, lining up three little chicks under her wings. My husband then, was only present on the weekends or when it was easy. With my feathers fluffed and my neck stretched, I prepared us. Tirelessly, I packed and organized and arranged for a quick move with minimal burden for everyone - except for me. Sunset came and we loaded the mini-van as the flakes started to fall and the wind started to blow. My constant fortitude shivered with the chill of the brewing storm. But I buckled the babies into their seats. Tim and I drove north into the countryside, leaving suburbia behind us. We sped headlong into the storm.
Tim rolled the little van through up the gravel drive through the mounting inches of blowing snow that whipped wild and wicked over the fields and through the wiry fences. The leafless trees moaned and complained, with long howls. Against the dark abyss of the winter sky, the house loomed sinisterly. The kids trembled half afraid, have excited. Jacob cried and clung as I pulled him from his seat. We dashed to the back door, as Tim turned the key. We flipped on the lights, and let go of the shivering babes. The old house, the covered cabin, one of the oldest in Dekalb county, was strongly silent and warm against the war that raged outside. It was as if we had crawled into a mountain cavern, prepared by Providence for us.
The house was one large open area with a couple of clinging small rooms , a giant loft, and a cellar. I loved it at once. I love it yet! The ancient darkened wood stairs thrust itself down importantly as if it was a stairwell to heaven. My dears ran freely around, making a new adventure. They discovered nooks and hidden corners.
Tim and I unloaded the van quickly. After some debate, Tim was to go back to the house and get another load - while We would stay and begin unpacking. Tim left. He left us.
As the night hours became morning hours, I tucked myself and the three toddlers into a corner with blankets and quilts. They wiggled and rustled with frightened anticipation between the covers. I sung some lullabies and told stories till three soft child snores ruffled over the stillness. I drifted sleepily with the wind's howls fretting with worry and anger. Always abandoned when I was actually afraid, I cried selfishly into my bent arm.