Lost and Found | Eastern NC Now

    Publisher's note: Please join me in welcoming Author Michele Rhem, who presents us with her poignant memoirs of the Rabbit Patch, where her diaries weave tales of a simpler, expressive life lost to many, but gathered together in her most familiar environs - the Rabbit Patch.

    The early service, in the rabbit patch territory, was a cold and still one, today. I went out to collect pine cones and thought the sound of the door shutting, would shatter the world. Heavy frost was just beginning to sparkle in the first light. Cash and Christopher Robin, had been so eager to accompany me, and had darted out in an unmannerly fashion. They seemed quite shocked at the stark landscape, covered with icy crystals. . . and stopped dead in their tracks, for a moments to survey just where they had landed. I had a bit of luck and found plenty of pine cones quickly. Pine cones are wonderful for starting fires. When I came in, that dog and cat did too, like a flash, as if they were escaping from something horrid. I started a fire in the wood stove and then a small one in the den, with the "morning table". How good it felt to be at home and what "great expectations" I was harboring.

    I was hopeful that the bedroom would be be put back together-and maybe we would finally get our Christmas decorations put up. Dare I try to make cookies . . again ?-(the kind you want to eat). The morning is full of hope, for me.

    By mid morning the bed was set up and most of the shoes were in the closet. Of course, the door to the closet needs some adjustments as it no longer shuts properly, but drags on the carpet, instead. The dresser sits against the wall, waiting patiently for the mirror to be hung above it. The only job, I do not take pleasure in, that looms before me , is hanging a stack of clean clothes . Cash and Christopher Robin are not allowed in the only carpeted room in the house and this caused a great deal of distress for them. The circumstances are new to them as they are nearly always wherever I am. Still, I was unmoved by their pleading as I am well aware of what their reaction may be to a new, soft floor-and was not willing to risk it. When the linens were on the bed, and the faint scent of lavender wafted in the air, I felt like the tragedy of the discovered hole in the floor was distant and far behind me. I had been right-it was just a hole in the floor, after all.

    At last, in the moments just after the noon hour, the bedroom was mostly complete. Even the little mirror was hung. Not everything that came out, went back in. Once again, I had a small box for donation. At least, there wasn't a bit of trash. It has really surprised me to find how few possessions I typically use. I have not yet missed a thing I disposed of in July. I thought, to myself , that I have "been moving out", in a way, for a long time-and I laughed at that.

    I can never stay on just one task, it seems. Ever so often, I would venture to the storage barn, and bring some "Christmas" in the house. The wreaths came in one by one, some needed new ribbons. Lights came in and were checked strand by strand. As I searched. I was so very grateful, that the storage barn had been cleaned out this past summer. Of course now, we will not eat at the kitchen table this weekend. As , I rambled in the barn, I noticed I had not come across the ornaments. Each time, I went out, I looked without any luck. When it was almost dark, I was sure, that somehow I had accidentlly "donated" the precious ornaments. I almost cried remembering Jenny as a little girl, picking out a snowflake each year. I have five ornaments alike, of each kind, to represent my children. Most were bought at Christmas shops and were especially pretty. Through the years, the collection has grown until it is quite an impressive assortment. I gave up and felt awful about it. These were some possessions, I was very sorry to lose. As is my habit, I repeated they were just ornaments. I struggled not to cry over "things" in front of Christian. . .but, it was difficult as the ornaments represented some fond memories. One day, I intended to give each child a "set" of them. Just as dusk set in, I decided to take one last look. . .and- I found them! I will not be so prideful about my noble ability to care so little about possessions, in the future.

    I did hang wreaths today and the contents of the Christmas closet are out in the broad daylight. The bedroom is in good order and Cash nor Christopher Robin seem to care one iota about it. Tomorrow, I am hoping again, the tree will be decorated and presents will be under it. . . and the ornaments will adorn the tree as they have done faithfully, for more than two decades.

    Dear Diary, I am glad for warm fires on cold mornings. I am glad for beds with clean linens and wreaths on doors and barns too. I am glad to have gently taught lessons . . . and am especially glad to have found the ornaments, gathered over the years , after all.