Back Home

Everything is soft here, welcoming, inviting, magical, suspended.

I feel as though I must live here, always; that life is not worth living unless we are here, or somewhere like it.

We arrived at 23:05 last night. The squashes that T had laid out all along the back of the house were still there — no one had taken them. I regretted not having put up a sign: “Prenez-moi s.v.p., merci”

X, Y and Z had been sleeping in the back seat like a line of floppy little rabbits for the last part of the trip, but woke up as we started turning the corners near our hamlet.

T went and unlocked the door, turned on the power, turned on the water. The fridge greeted us with its climbing chime.

Our house upon entering seemed like… home.

It is not stylish but it is rustic, in the truest sense of the word:

rustic |ˈrəstik|
adjective
1 of or relating to the countryside; rural.

The old, painted concrete floor, worn with the footfall of decades of people going in and going out, the women — the women! (And how amazing that there once were four girls, the first children, and there now are four boys — the universe is so perfectly aligned in this house!) The women, bustling around the kitchen, the men tramping in from the fields and from the hunt, annoying the women and charming the women; the children running around (and around, and around) the table, which has always stood just there, in the centre of the room!

Oh how glad and full my heart is! It is as though I can breathe again, I can spread my wings to fill the wide, clear night sky, my eyes nourished by the sight of palest light along the horizon. And yes, we can at last see the horizon once again. That place where earth meets air.

Is that why I have been so sad these past months, so closed, so shrivelled, so tired and lifeless? I feel I have been rotting from the outside, and is it all because I can’t see the horizon?

At last, at last we are home.

_____

Notes/refs:

  • Excerpt from journal entry 2015-12-24. 

Nadine inhales & exhales words & images from current vantage point in Zone of Emptiness, France. If you wish to contribute and/or show appreciation, please recommend/like and/or comment — or send a quick email via the contact page. Thank you for reading. 🖤

2 thoughts on “Back Home

  1. Thank you so much for commenting on my Blog, and leaving a lengthy, heartfelt comment! There is no better feeling than walking into your home. While reading your post, you described it perfectly. I envisioned sitting down, after unloading the car, and my wings sprung outward and gently relaxed over the chair. Thank you for writing. xxx

    Liked by 1 person

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