(Some keep a diary for the memories. Others to sustain some order in their life. Me? I do it purely for my sanity.)
Battle Day #4 with the season flu.
Being house confined these last few (time-less) days, I am only too grateful to sprawl across my king sized bed, watching a marathon of black and white movies on TCM. Falling asleep is easy in the peaceful absence of the otherwise frequent TV commercials.
Today however, I awoke with a better understanding of something else. The necessity to surround oneself with (some) 'opulence' and 'creature comforts'.
After looking at the same walls and decor for countless hours on end, I am happy to admit that my house is indeed beautiful. And I am suspiciously ecstatic to live in it. Even during these rather ill circumstances, it has pulled me close and embraced me inside a 'soul' I helped create over our years together.Everywhere I looked, a piece of (my) history stared back. A collection from places visited or a times lived. Or photographs and memories carefully strung together for a display in my own private life.
My home is...my sanctuary. And the few invited to enter this "private" space, have often expressed awe for it's uniqueness.
My 'personal world' was never designed with the intent to impress, but to rather comfort me (in days like these) and to hold all that I find dear to my heart. Somedays however, I do wonder of what I shall do with it all, when this space becomes too large for me to dwell in -as I eventually seek a smaller life.
Though tonight, while I pace the dark mahogany planks, wearing my fuzzy slippers, I can't help but ask myself: "where else has all this been before, that now lives here? Where will it go?".
It's late and the skies have turned black. I hear the heat kick on more frequent now and I feel the night's chill increase. I tighten the wool robe around me. Slowly, I drag through the tiled foyer and cross to the library in the westerly wing. A wall of river rock hosts a giant fireplace now empty of flames...and I think to throw some logs in -if only to warm my bones. Pausing, my body tugs back. It craves more bed rest.
Maybe tomorrow I'll revisit more house treasures again. And maybe tomorrow.... I'll behave less feline-like and not rub as much against my memories. Besides, TCM's black and white movies are best watched from bed.
ADM
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