The view from my chair this morning
briefly looking up from my book,
has me besotted
as will be revealed to you
here
I am absolutely, and utterly in love
with my house
the history and character
ingrained in each stick of wood
each lick of paint
each creak of a wooden floor board
the light, the shadow
occasional cobweb in the corner
even a little … the dust
the ghost cat that moves through
jumps up
on the bed
catches one’s eye
the occasional thud from upstairs
when no-one
is
there
odd stamps that appear in a crevice
or drawer
the sound of a drip
with no evidence ever found
but mostly, that it has felt like the most wonderful thing
since the first time we looked
and felt
its welcome
we came at the time with just two in tow
then added two more
we have accumulated and acquired
much
attempting to burst a few seams
we have rewired, re-plumbed
re-roofed, windowed, stuccoed and painted
and always it holds us
in
love
gladly absorbing both laughter and tears
joys and pains, loud noises, silences
celebrations and
heartbreak
it holds us
in gratitude, I love each door
and doorframe
each impossible angle
and hidden nuance
I love the railing on the stairs
the trapdoor to the attic
and the secrets
behind the
walls
I love that it suits us
that it holds us
that it
cares
when we’re here
and each night
in gratitude
I thank it for loving
us
just as much ♥