My house is an English Muffin. There are "nooks and crannies" everywhere. I can't discover it enough, fast enough. It can be overwhelming.... paralyzing.
Like my pup, who paces down the hall before caving and finding an acceptable place to sleep, I find myself walking then setting down temporarily, till I move again, for reasons I can't define, from each room, till now.
On the sofa in the center of the whole house, caved in and comfy; I listen to somewhat surprising buckets of May rain pouring down on everything and then I do the one and only thing that magically makes me feel at home in this new house; I light candles and gaze at everything I have, everything I know, in clear light.
Somewhere in this house of things is everything I long to know, already have, already have loved but somehow have lost and now found again.
And only at this moment have I just realized...
I love even just the purest, simplest flames that shine light on everything I'm dying to see, dying to love, all over again.
It's that simple.
I posted this at 11:11. Ironic. Love that.
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