On Saturday morning, I made another drive to the Spokane Indian Reservation. Somehow, I managed to find my way back to a small plot of land that may have belonged to my father. I'm not exactly sure, but it fits the description. My father once told me that his land sat on a ridge overlooking the valley. He also said that he logged a small section of land on the bluff to make way for a cabin. Well, a good friend tells me this is the ridge, and as far as I could tell, this was the only spot on the ridge that had been cleared of trees. If this indeed belonged to my father, then the land now belongs to my siblings and me. Maybe someday we'll fulfill his dream and build that cabin.
Later in the day, I stumbled onto an old cabin in the woods. The roof was completely missing and the walls were beginning to fall. My same friend tells me this cabin once belonged to my distant relative Norbert Abrahamson, long since deceased.
Sunrise near my father's plot of land.