Late NIght in Fridaville

September 29th, 2009

Coming home in the dark, catching a slice of moon through the branches of the cedar tree, turning the key in the lock, dropping the suitcase, closing the door — home after days away. Home to boxes of new books from Amazon on the porch, mail from an old friend, piles of newspapers past with dire unread warnings (and yet the world kept turning), holy sanctified crisp clean sheets on the bed, the voluptuous curves of the overstuffed chair by the door. Did the house miss me as much as I missed the house? My tiny slice of home, snugged under the cedar tree with the red birdfeeder in its branches. Taking out the trash, I stand in the dark front yard and admire the lighted windows from the outside, the way I’ve often done passing by strangers’ houses in the night. But this time, they shine for me. Coming home in the dark.

4 Responses to “Late NIght in Fridaville”

  1. ida says:

    your ode to home is beautiful

  2. Barbara says:

    Oh what a feeling indeed! Sometimes I make a mess preparing to leave on a trip, but always always make sure the bedlinens are changed so I know the feeling of coming home tired and falling into crisp clean sheets. I go stand in the yard at night too and see what my lighted windows look like to passerby. Loved this post!

  3. Nikki Hardin says:

    I love traveling but I love even more coming home.

  4. anna maria says:

    I do not currently have a home I love coming back to, unfortunately, but I am grateful I have A home, and dogs – they're always great to come home to, no matter where you live.