My house

Hum Hum Hum. Hum Hum Hum. She sings to me. It’s a slow rocking melody that lulls me into a sun-saturated sleep. We’re sitting out on the deck looking at our house, our small beautiful house. I love how the red brick looks at this time of day, all on fire and burning. Burning but never becoming the remnants of a fire. Hum Hum Hum. I’ve always loved our house. Loved the way that inside its protective outer layer it is cool and safe. I love our room too. Others say its cramped, tiny, not enough, but I love the intimacy. I like coming home in the late afternoon to find her cooking some new recipe she just heard about. Grating turmeric and ginger into a pan while infusing cucumber into cold delicious yogurt. Hum Hum Hum. I love that we eat on cushions outside, listening to all things with wings and talking about the colors of the bleeding sky. But I love our house at night the most. When the white lights come out and float above us, just far enough out of our reach. When I look at them they seem so knowledgeable and full. Hum Hum Hum. She and I, we lay out on blankets and scarves in the warm night air and talk about everything, things that matter, and things that don’t matter at all. I love our house.