And you belong right here, where you’re home, and where I hold you close, Of all the wonders I’ve ever known, you’re the one I love the most. From You Belong Here by M.H. Clark, Illustrated by Isabelle Arsenault
There is nothing better than snuggling with you under one of the beautiful blankets from our travels together.
All houses wherein men have lived and died Are haunted houses. Through the open doors The harmless phantoms on their errands glide, With feet that make no sound upon the floors.
We meet them at the doorway, on the stair, Along the passages they come and go, Impalpable impressions on the air, A sense of something moving to and fro… from Haunted Houses by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I grew up in a neighborhood where the homes were identified, not by street numbers, but by the surname of the first owners. It didn’t matter how long the first residents had lived in the house, their surname was retained despite subsequent owners who may have lived there for much longer.
Furthermore, it seemed that whatever that state of emotion the first owners possessed, either happy or sad, the house seemed to attract the same sort of owner. I don’t know why, but when I visit a home, I can sense immediately if it is a comfortable or uncomfortable space – one where the inhabitants thrive in harmony or one where is there is upset and discord. (This is independent of color, lighting, furniture, or any other physical aspect of the house.)
I hope that when anyone enters my home they feel that they are not only entering a welcoming, happy, and comfortable place but one that is nurturing, creative, and flourishing!
Like somebody who sees things when he’s dreaming And after the dream lives with the aftermath Of what he felt, no other trace remaining,
So I live now, for what I saw departs And is almost lost, although a distilled sweetness Still drops from it into my inner heart.
From A Dream of Solstice by Seamus Heaney
This has been a year of stark contrasts for me: moments of acute pain, suffering, and sorrow but also moments of happiness, joy, and exuberance. I could not say that the lightest moments outweigh, compensate, or obliterate the darkest ones, but, because one cannot change the past, I choose to carry only the feelings and memories of the lightest moments forward.