The porch sweeps around the house in a L shape, it's deep and covered. If you listen closely, you can hear the music from inside, the scratch of the record mingling with a spring breeze and sunshine. There is nothing like music dancing in the open air.
Here, I'm drawn to the simple, to empty corners and walls that hold one instead of many. I'm interested in less and fewer and the way it feels. Perhaps, because in settling in, we are saying, let's make this home, let's belong here, and while I find great comfort in that, I will always need the wide open; the balance of wanting to belong, while maintaining the roaring free that exists eternally inside. The two will journey with me for all my days, I am certain. And it's not about quenching one or indulging the other, because I need them both, and they must be nurtured, in their respective ways.
In the sitting room, on the wall across from the fireplace, my new painting lives, my first of North Carolina, and nothing else. Nothing rests in the corner or sits against the wall and when I see it, a deep breath sweeps through me. It says, there is room here and space to be and live and grow and love and create.
There is space here and we are free to do with it what we will.
In life. You and I. Today and right now.
As I walk down the hall, I am not struck my the emptiness, but by the possibilities that come when we leave room on walls, in our hearts, and our time. For where we leave space, things can grow and we need that, plants, humans, and dreams alike, space and air and nurturing.
It's a delicate balance, and it feels good here.