I’m not sure I actually learned anything from this book but it was one of my favorite reads of the year. The memoir is about a guy around my age (29) who returns to his parents’ farm where he grew up.
He returns to help and to learn and he ends up building a structure in which he lives. Maybe that means more to me because I just watched the Tiny documentary but it really buried me at the end.
Here’s one of my favorite excerpts:
For just a brief second I had the feeling of being glad to be alive at that exact moment. The anxiety of time receded back to its furthest point, and the present took up all the available space.
I suddenly wanted to find my mother and h and tell them that I loved them. I wanted to stay here forever in the hollow, closed off from the world, in the shelter I’d built, with a table and a chair, a bed and a full bookshelf.
I wanted my grave dug under the black walnut, with Sarah’s there beside it, our children to plant a forsythia that would bloom in the spring, the first yellow flowers of March. I wanted our bones to molder and the stone to grow dim, the rain to seep into the box and the tree roots to grow down through it, and someday the creek to rise and wash us all away.