Dear John and Elaine,
I am so very honored you thought of me when it came to the care of your pets and home.
I was intent on following your written instructions to the letter and settling into your poopsies' routine. I wanted to make sure I acclimated to them and not them to me. After feeling my way around and re-introducing myself with a string of indecipherable ramblings about how cute and sweet they were, I walked with them from room to room.
Your house made me want to name it or maybe just sing it out like an old Southern Hymn (this is where I pictured Cherry pews, stained glass, and Sister Berta in a thin white dress fanning familiar spirits and harmonies).
Plaster walls forgive me
Hardwood floors release me
Just As I Am, Just As I Am
I listened to the tub quote Kahlil Gibran's friendship prose as I brushed my teeth. Sweet Pea and Little Bit blamed the Nag Champa and porcelain pitcher for mixing up the postcards in the kitchen, but I know it was them.
In the evening Emma, Sam, and I talked about the day while love notes pinned to cork boards flapped like white cafe curtains. Your high ceilings playfully threaten to tie us to the moonlight with ribbon and wrap us all with twine to the sun. Sam teased them back as shadows passed and Emma crossed them off her list.
Most hours I thought about flipping through your books. While the lights were on they appeared stacked together in purposeful pillars but once the lights went out I could here them playing chicken on each other's shoulders.
Just before I turned in, I heard Emma snoring and Sam's fan and all the house listening to an encore of porch chimes clonking ancient stories like Shaman aboard a train.
Your house is rich and kind; which I imagine, as I tend to do - is a mirror image of your souls.
Thank you for letting me fill your shoes and bowls. Sam and Emma delighted me and Sweet Pea and Little Bit renewed my faith in snobby kitties.
Your home is a confirmation for humanity. Every room captures love.
Your walls and fridge represent passion and creativity.
But your passion for West Greenville demonstrates humility, faith in mankind, and love. Love to be experience and shared by all... who live.
Again, Thanks.
~Aubrey
PS. Sam passed gas so badly, Emma and I had to leave the room and convene in the kitchen for prayer.
About Me
- La Feroce Bete
- Greenville, South Carolina, United States
- ..everywhere i go someone tries to set me on fire..
3 comments:
since reading your blog, i've walked the house seeing it through your eyes...dust rhinos, heart of palm walls and all. there are times when john asks me what i'm doing and i tell him, "i'm staring at the wall." now i know i'm not alone.
it's taken me awhile to embrace my preference to stay home. i was a closet home-body. apparently i'm not alone in the love of my home. i feel safe to come out.
in portland i lived in a purple, crooked 1897 farmhouse that sat on the corner of killingsworth and n. maryland. i named it 'casa caprice.' a true reflection of the home and sadly a reflection of my bounce around state of mind. i'm much more stable now...my toes are rooted.
your say a name for #33? something proper and secure? i'll need to stare at the walls a bit longer to be inspired. when you're here next week tell me what you see.
i'm honored, aubrey that you love our home as much as i do.
p.s.
the no-scarf bowls are actually working. i can eat brocolli again sans horrible memories.
So I'm Aunt Elaine now...for some reason that seems to go with your story.
Ha! You do need to name it! It's too precious to not have proper ID! :) I love love old homes. There is so much character associated. Your house in Portland sounds like a great place - bouncy or not. ;)
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