It's a humble home in a humble neighborhood with humble inhabitants of humble origin.

From the outside my family appears quite average... a grey haired couple, faces lit up by thier evening entertainment, enjoyed in the comfort of their matching reclining chairs.

The front door remains open and unlocked revealing 2 furry friends staring longingly out of the glass into the purple light of evening. A rythmic thumping of an ungroomed tail is heard as neighbors enjoy their nighly routine stroll... the perfect excitement for man's best friend.

From the inside, a midcentury window frames a peaceful scene of golden leaves whisping to the ground  just as they have for the past 60 years from the same wise elm.

A silver faced golden retriever begins to softly whine as her hound counterpart sleeps lazily on the sofa... she's heard a familiar engine... now, familiar steps crunching week old leaves as they approach. She frantically searches for a slipper or old sock, her gift of choice for someone who is obviously of deep importance to deserve such generosity. Her whines turn to yelps as a young man greets her with kind eyes. He's had a long day at the local woodworking shop. Covered in wood stain and dust he kisses his mother and retreats downstairs for a shower.

The lightly salted smell of a roast floats slowy down a modest hallway framed with legacy to a stuffed yellow lit room. It's here I've planted myself for the night.

My imac computer rudely interrupts the soft, warm calm of stacked books, expired mail, office supplies and past handwritten memories in a room sorely lacking anything of modern importance.

It's here that I enjoy muffled giggles of my daughter and her grandmother from across the hall, it is here that I am missing my husband as he is away, it is here that I feel ease and peace outside of my bustling life, it's here I am allured by the beauty of a simple average existance, if even for a moment...

It is here that I feel home.