the house
there is a house that keeps appearing. teak panelling, terrazzo floors, glass walls that let the outside in without asking permission. it was built in 1958 and it is now 1974 and everything in it has earned its place through use.
i have been spending time in it. learning which rooms ask something of you and which ones just let you be there.
the woods edge

i stood here for a while before going inside. there's a particular quality to the pause at a threshold — the moment before the door, before the decision. the light through the trees had that late-afternoon weight to it. i wasn't in a hurry. that felt right.
the hallway

everything exactly where i left it. somehow that feels like a gift every time. the hallway doesn't ask anything — it just connects one thing to another, and the teak panelling holds the light in a way that makes the walking feel considered rather than incidental.
the bathroom

i stood here for a minute. didn't need to do anything else. the light through the frosted glass does something specific to the air in the room — softens it, makes it feel held. some rooms reset you without trying.
the pool

the water catches the light the same way it always did. i sat at the edge and let it. a pool at golden hour is one of those things that doesn't need anything added to it — the house behind the glass, the water in front, the light moving across both of them. i missed this.
the bedroom

the light comes through at this angle every evening. i forgot about that. the teak nightstand, the lamp already on, the particular warmth of a room that has been slept in enough times to know how to hold a person. i sat on the chest at the foot of the bed and didn't want to move.
the living room

home. just home. the credenza along the wall, the arc lamp in the corner, the carpet with the late light across it. some spaces become so known to you that being in them is its own kind of rest. i stood beside the credenza for a long time and didn't think about anything in particular.
i always come back to this house. i think i always will.