Coming Home

March 10th, 2011

Tonight there is a sweet potato baking in the oven, a block of Emmentaler Swiss cheese coming to room temp on the kitchen counter preparing to mate in sweet butter with sunflower bread, and a glass of Malbec breathing quietly by my side. I’m home. There are days when I’m eager to go out to dinner, meet someone for drinks, dress up for a party. And then there are days when I can’t wait to pull into my driveway, have the motion light on the corner of the house welcome me, wash the day off my face and hands and sink into the bliss of home. When changing into pajamas feels sybaritic and the idea of a heavy down comforter makes me think of sleep as a lover. When dinner for one is not lonely but lovely. When the prayer flags are doing their job and spreading blessings with every breeze. When I’m not longing to be in London, Paris or Mendocino — anywhere but here. When my house lives up to the name my daughters gave it — Happy Shack. When I’m flying the mental Frida flag. When I feel lucky to have a fractured ankle instead of kankles. When my Kindle is filled with books to be read late into the night. Lucky, lucky me. Happy, happy shack.

3 Responses to “Coming Home”

  1. I am a home body, which is a good thing, because I spend about 23 hours a day here!

  2. Sallie says:

    There is something to be said when you wrap yourself in that Cloak of Comfort…aah -the known.

  3. Jen says:

    AH!! Your home looks so happy… Happy Shack.. what a wonderful name for a HOME 🙂

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