It getting dark now. The passing shower has given the air a cooler moist tinge. The fish in my little lily pond like the rain, and they seem happy to see me when i go out to the garden to get a cucumber to go with dinner. An ordinary night at home. I do love home. I always have. I remember my mother asking when we moved into a new place (which wasn't all that often really), "Is it "homey" yet?" It doesn't happen right away, you have to settle into the word. It represents what's familar... smells, sounds, comfort or just simple daily routine. Sometimes other people's houses are homey too. The ones you grow up with... the places where you are welcome and don't feel funny opening the cabinets to get a dish, cuz you know just where they are. These days the places I feel at home at are fewer... Life goes on and also changes. You can't get them back, you can only hope there are new places you will come to feel comfortable in.
Home contains much of what I love in this world... it seems scary sometime that so much is under one roof.... like putting all your eggs in one basket...
How does home sound tonight? The radio is playing behind me on the kitchen counter, it's on the country station of course ~ the dial never moves. A guinea pig is licking the water bottle, the gentle nighttime insect noises are drifting in the back door.... the husband is crashing around in the drawer looking for something... and right now ~ as i type the train is going by blowing it's whistle at the Elm Street crossing. On a night with heavy air, the whistle is very loud and presses on your senses more... it sounds like it's in the living room.
The computer box thingy is humming, and Jake the cat is purring on my lap; the timer for the rice just went off, and a cool wind just stirred thru the house.