this morning the washer hums in the backround. the guest bed is now empty. two sets of lovely visitors have all headed home leaving only the lingering wafts of memories. the smiles that greeted me as I walked downstairs. the two friends knitting by the fire. a brother who brought music into our lives. all good. full. now the house settles into quiet.
i've been reading. most recently, i'm late to the party on this one, is the history of love by nicole krauss. such amazing writing. the dialoge in this book just slays me. it's all the words that run through your head, in and out of conversations, written down. i laughed. i cried. i can't say enough.
sense and sensibility by the lovely jane austen. i'm reading this along with my girl.
the deep end of the ocean by neil gaiman. his way of bringing together fantasy and reality really shouldn't be missed.
finally the woodcutter by kate danley, sent to me by a friend who knew i'd love it, was such a joy to read for someone who loves a good grimm's fairytale.
the sun filters through the trees out front. the whole day in front of me. two little ones build a fort with chairs, pillows, silks, and kitchen items. laughing and pretending together. i believe i will tackle those piles of unclaimed things that happen when one has moved. displaced items that have no official home. a latte in hand gives courage to greet what this day brings. may it be a lovely one.