I stayed up last night happily cleaning , who knew zombies would bring such order to a house that tends toward life chaos? I sat in a chair, just to take a moment this morning. The light was filtering through the closed curtains and in that brief space of time, I viewed the room as a stranger would. In that instant it was no longer mine, and the writer in me wanted to know what an outsider would think of it...
What an witchy space. Here dwelled a lover of books, of remnants gleaned from throwaways. Though masculine in colour, a woman certainly called this home. You could just feel it. Might she have spotted those candlesticks of three next to an Amvet drop off on a cold morning? There they sat waiting for her. The heavy iron lantern was most likely lifted as a throwaway as well, for she saw it not as a broken lantern but first as a garden sentinel wrapped in her beloved ivy,
and later as a keeper of true light - candle.
A plant that she lovingly would care for, reminding it how lovely and beautiful it was every time she watered it. She would hold her hands over it just close enough to its energy field to believe it drank not only water, but every word she uttered. The long stand was chipped but she felt this gave it the character it needed to garner a place in her space. The wood floors began to fade in spots, adding a silvery shimmer when the sun came up and the moon came out - she held no intention of refinishing them. Another lantern from a wedding she officiated next to a tragically deep lake in upstate NY.
A bit formal for what her tastes now were was a hutch, a gift from her past life. It was lovely but was being released soon. The last epoch of her life had been a slow release of a reality that might have never truly existed. It was time to let go. The trunk would be kept as she had an affinity for such wandering things. The star lantern accompanied her on an all hallows eve with a light inside as if snatched from the skies to help her through the night. Her niece never took her eyes off of it.
Again, just a moment outside of herself, an early morning of observation, of both she and the things that found their place with her. She didn't want to go to work - she wanted to soak in the energy her children and their friends had left behind. She would decide to fill the house again soon. A cup of Irish breakfast tea, and she set off to work; unnatural for her, yet natural within her heart.
Take a look around sometime.
Namaste
