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Mar. 12th, 2006 08:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stormdogI feel so very much at home today.
After I found out from my brother that our scheduled Final Fantasy XI game was not going to happen today due to another player not being able to make it, I drove by my parents' house anyway and picked up my dad. The two of us drove out to Sears and to Big!Lots to pick up a couple of things I needed for the house. Being close enough to my family to pick up my dad at the spur of the moment and enjoy his company for a couple hours makes this feel like home.
I went home to rouse my slumbering beauty for the Chinese buffet we'd talked about the previous day. As the two of us were just finishing our meal, who should come come into the restaurant but my dad and Evil Bob? Moira and I spent another hour sitting and talking with them. Being near enough to friends to have these random encounters; this too feels like home.
My love and I returned to our house where we stayed as the afternoon turned into evening. Enjoying being in each other's presence but not in each other's way, we split our time between a couple of projects. We washed mounds of clothes and prettied up the bedroom. Though earlier in the day I kept wishing that the air outside was just ten degrees warmer so I could open up the windows, I finally gave in an hour ago and slid them open just enough to let the storm-kissed air wend its way into the upstairs. Investing time and effort into the space I share with my love; this is home as well.
This spring storm touches something deep in me. Outside, getting the vacuum out of my truck, lightning was illuminating the purple sky in brilliant flashes when I heard the sound of an approaching freight train. I stood barefoot in the damp driveway with a hand shading my eyes against the drizzle as I watched the four locomotives thunder by on the track behind our house. The string of coal cars seemed to go on forever as the ground gently rumbled beneath my feet. There was just enough light for the cars to be indigo silhouettes that the thunderbolts playfully brought into occasional brilliance. A spring storm is home.
I lie now on the freshly vacuumed carpet of my bedroom, Nick Drake's sad, sweet voice in my ears. The cool, wet air from the window licks across the floor and tickles my feet. I am thinking about the people I love. My mate, my family, my friends. Soon, Moira will be done with dinner and we will eat macaroni and cheese as we see the remaining half of a movie we started earlier. Afterward, we will go upstairs and I will turn off the lights. I'll light the candles I put on the wall-shelf that I just hung by my closet door, and the others around the room. Our cozy little den will whisper to us in tongues of orange and yellow. I so love candlelight. I will lie down next to my dear one, the dancing flames picking out the highlights of her fur that cascades across her pillow. For a few precious hours before morning, she and our den will be my world. This, most of all, is home.
After I found out from my brother that our scheduled Final Fantasy XI game was not going to happen today due to another player not being able to make it, I drove by my parents' house anyway and picked up my dad. The two of us drove out to Sears and to Big!Lots to pick up a couple of things I needed for the house. Being close enough to my family to pick up my dad at the spur of the moment and enjoy his company for a couple hours makes this feel like home.
I went home to rouse my slumbering beauty for the Chinese buffet we'd talked about the previous day. As the two of us were just finishing our meal, who should come come into the restaurant but my dad and Evil Bob? Moira and I spent another hour sitting and talking with them. Being near enough to friends to have these random encounters; this too feels like home.
My love and I returned to our house where we stayed as the afternoon turned into evening. Enjoying being in each other's presence but not in each other's way, we split our time between a couple of projects. We washed mounds of clothes and prettied up the bedroom. Though earlier in the day I kept wishing that the air outside was just ten degrees warmer so I could open up the windows, I finally gave in an hour ago and slid them open just enough to let the storm-kissed air wend its way into the upstairs. Investing time and effort into the space I share with my love; this is home as well.
This spring storm touches something deep in me. Outside, getting the vacuum out of my truck, lightning was illuminating the purple sky in brilliant flashes when I heard the sound of an approaching freight train. I stood barefoot in the damp driveway with a hand shading my eyes against the drizzle as I watched the four locomotives thunder by on the track behind our house. The string of coal cars seemed to go on forever as the ground gently rumbled beneath my feet. There was just enough light for the cars to be indigo silhouettes that the thunderbolts playfully brought into occasional brilliance. A spring storm is home.
I lie now on the freshly vacuumed carpet of my bedroom, Nick Drake's sad, sweet voice in my ears. The cool, wet air from the window licks across the floor and tickles my feet. I am thinking about the people I love. My mate, my family, my friends. Soon, Moira will be done with dinner and we will eat macaroni and cheese as we see the remaining half of a movie we started earlier. Afterward, we will go upstairs and I will turn off the lights. I'll light the candles I put on the wall-shelf that I just hung by my closet door, and the others around the room. Our cozy little den will whisper to us in tongues of orange and yellow. I so love candlelight. I will lie down next to my dear one, the dancing flames picking out the highlights of her fur that cascades across her pillow. For a few precious hours before morning, she and our den will be my world. This, most of all, is home.
