Hello again,
How are you? How is your family? Are you well? Did you take a walk this morning? Are you in love? When you wake up, does your bedroom lamp cast a light so bright you cover your eyes, shy away from it?
I’ve been playing cards lately. Going for cold swims. I bought a calendar. It helps me keep track of the days better. I’ve been buying flowers for the table. Drinking lots of wine. Making prints in the garden. Working here and there. My mother has sold the house. I’ve been spending the last few weeks writing eulogies for the floorboards. Kissing the bannisters.
They found out that the circuits under our feet are faulty. The surveyor called it a category three. If you plug the kettle and the toaster in at the same time, the wires trip and the rooms fall into darkness. When it happens we light candles and play charades in the shadows like it’s earth day. You see, I cannot leave a light on for you. You cannot find your way back here. Like me, you will stay homesick for somewhere you know you cannot return to.
I’ve been painting the walls white. Fixing the hinges on the door frames. People have been trampling in and out of this place, pointing out the cracks in my bedroom walls. As if I did not grow up here. Drew faces in blue marker on the stairs. I think you should know,
I will dream about this house
Long after I have left it
I will return here in my sleep
I will linger in every room.
