One of these days
when home is here and there and everywhere
The light is tangible today, it pulsates as the sky breaths in and out and the pine needles exuberant, sway in unison welcoming the breeze that comes free of the humidity and heat of the previous months. Everything glows with potential as if the surface of things would crack open any moment now, spilling out the magic we forget is underneath autumn.
Two clouds sit on top of the mountain that flanks my east. They linger in the moment before they resume their drifting course and I want to go after them, but I have no energy. Still heavy with sickness, I stare at the big expanse of blue one last time before I retreat from the balcony.
I stand barefoot on a sunny patch that warms the wood planks of the floor. I keep expecting to hear mum calling us for our Sunday lunch and I can’t shake off the feeling that if I were to step into the adjoining room, dad would be right there on the sofa, reading his newspaper. The heat rises from the toes to meet the heart and I am overwhelmed by the love that floats in the air mingled with the dust motes that glimmer before my eyes.
The skylight in the kitchen of our old house would be ablaze today.
I try to picture it in my mind—the house—empty now. Dad, who one moment was reading his newspaper and then suddenly ran out of moments. Mum, who held on for ten years without him and transferred a few days ago to a professional care facility—too frail to stay on her own. I try to picture the house empty. I can’t.
Do homes feel lonely?
*Why a classic painting of Vermeer reminds me of home is hard to explain. Or maybe I don’t want to elaborate on every subtle, intimate or silly attachment from my childhood. Let it remain a mystery hanging on a wall, forgotten in an attic or a basement.
this 💜
Beautiful glimpse of your family memories Fotini, felt like I was leafing through a cherished family album as I read your words. A full on sensory journey 🙌🏻💖