It is time to sit and sip and chat a bit.
How was your weekend?
Since the road trip to Kansas City and seeing the historic houses there I did a bit of reminiscing about a favorite historic house from my past. I did an internship at the Ewing Museum. It was a lovely old home made of pale yellow stone. At the time I often dreamed of living in that house and what life may have been like for those who lived there in the past.
The yellow stone wall glistens brightly in the sun.
The blank black windows stare out emptily.
The massive oak doors swing open on their rusty hinges.
As you step into the coach yard,
You can almost hear the clop, clopping of horses hooves,
the rattling of carriage wheels and the brilliant laughter of a young girl.
There is silence.
Peering into the windows you try to see the flickering
glimmer of a candle lighting the pages of a much loved book,
or to see the glowing warmth of a fall fire as children gather around for cocoa.
There is nothing.
For the lovely house is no longer a home.
It no longer hears the joyous laughter, or soft cry.
It possesses a hollow emptiness that only a living presence can fill.
No one is there.