Up till our move to Massachusetts, I never realized how many distinct sounds, sights, and smells old houses have. Things you wouldn’t have thought could become so dear! Want to hear a few?
“The Heart of Home”
The warm triangle of light from my doorway is pretty, and my eyes linger over it.
I hear the floorboards creak, and Dad turns off the light in the hall.
Now in the dark, the windows make a valiant effort to shut out the wind, but I hear it blow against the house anyway.
Outside, I hear the neighbors pull into their drive, and car doors slamming.
The wind is just right tonight, and it carries the sound of a train whistle. It’s about nine fifty-five, now.
I strain to hear the bells from the Catholic church tolling the arrival of a new hour.
As I steal through the hall to take a midnight bathroom trip, the wood beneath my feet smells sweet.
I sniff the air and peer downstairs to make sure everything’s okay.
The tile on the bathroom floor is cold and smooth, and the white glow from the nightlight casts soft shadows.
The floor under my feet pops to greet me as I come stumbling back.
The bed groans and reproaches me, and I toss and turn to get comfy again.
I finally settle down, my limbs offended by so much movement.
After a few moment’s silence, sounds begin anew.
A few crickets struggle to make a melody, their lilting chirps feeble on this cold night.
Down from the depths of the cellar, the heater rumbles into submission, dim and hollow.
The sound of a car passing outside is silken, like the ghost of the cars I normally hear in the daylight.
I close my eyes and smile, listening as the house sounds on.
What do you like best about your home?
See you next week,