I’m sitting by the fire, reading.
It’s raining outside, silent and warm inside.
And it occurs to me that this one of those moments.
When I’m stressed or doing something I don’t want to do or I’m too sick to move, this is one of the moments I wish for. “I wish I was peacefully sitting by a fire reading a book. Maybe it’s even raining outside”.
And now look, here I am. What wonder.
And in this moment I fall in love with my life. With my simple life and this small, simple house that is infused with the smells of coffee, bread, cakes, soups, biscuits, burnt toast, roast potatoes, cheese toasties.
Filled with the sounds of board games, card games, stupid made up games. The shouts of victory, of unfair play. And real shouts. Cruel words tossed harshly, sharp angry silences, brittle crackling pain.
The peace that comes from sitting quietly in gentle love. The laughter of a story told over dinner.
The stains, the spider webs, the fix-up jobs never started, never finished. Flowers from the garden in vases.
This little house hums with the life of us all.
And in this moment, this blessed moment, I am home.