If you could zoom through space in the speed of light, what place would you go to right now?
A feeling of warmth and silence and bliss that is so comfortable and well-known that you hardly realize it’s there. Like a beautiful, warm, shimmering ball of light that lives in your soul, giving your eyes that special glimmer of true happiness.
“Honey, are you home?”
The keys clatter on the dark, stained wood of my grandmother’s dresser that we placed in the hallway. We really do need to oil the wood again, flashes through my mind while I absentmindedly take off my scarf to throw it next to my bag on the bench under which a heap of shoes seems to have made a permanent nest. I slip out of mine and push them to their nestmates, having given up long ago on establishing some kind of order down there.
“Leander?” I make my way towards the kitchen.
A smell of dust and incense burnt days ago. Faintly a touch of lavender and lilac and roses and basil and mint hovers in the air, caressing your soul. The remembrance of burnt wood and caramel on the air.
Dust dances in the warm sunlight that comes in through the windows, bathing the hallway in the warm, orange evening light, painting patterns on the dozens of pictures hanging on the wall. Leander and I as children. The cat. My niece, beaming on her first day of school. Myself, in Victorian costume, majestically in sepia brown. Leander as Orc. Both of us in Middle Age clothes. Wedding pictures. Our family. And everywhere, our boys, from their first day home to their first steps to their first teeth.
“Meoooooooow!” Dante comes downstairs, his black fur shining in the sunlight, his graceful, soundless steps and beautiful limbs in stark contrast to his long-drawn whining. He purrs as he winds himself around my legs, his green-and-yellow eyes glinting up at me. “Hey, cat. Hungry?” I reach down to pet him and he rears up, pushing his head against my hand. The old wooden floor creaks as I walk across it, the slender little black panther hurrying before me and meowing excitedly. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming”, I say and follow him into the kitchen, only nearly missing a wooden building brick left on the floor.
Laughing and muted conversations, children squeaking and the humming of bees, nearly drowned out by the cheerful chirping of a bird. Beneath everything the content purring of a cat, even if he’s not here. The clear song of wind chimes is flying with the soft breeze outside to search for laughter.
The plate on which I give Dante his food needs desperately to be washed and I make a mental note to put it in the dishwasher when he’s done. The glass diamond and heart throw rainbow dots on the walls and the terracotta floor and I pop a grape in my mouth, smiling, as I always do, at the sight of the dried herb bundles hanging in the window that are bound with coloured ribbons. A few letters are lying on the huge, wooden table in the next room the kitchen opens up to, only separated with a few beams. I skim them and put them back unopened, before I grab the cups and dishes with a sigh and put them in the dishwasher, brushing a few crumbs on the floor and picking up a slice of cheese that fell down unnoticed. Looks like the boys already had their supper. The door to the garden is open and I can hear Birch shrieking with laughter and Leander saying something amused. I push the cushioned chairs back under the table while I make my way towards the door to the garden. I pause in the door frame, a big smile stretching my lips as I see the twins race barefoot across the grass. Leander, as most of the time, has a sketching blog in his lap and is watching them from the hammock. His eyes light up as he sees me. “Hey boys!” he calls and they turn to see me, cheering. “Mummy’s home!” And I am. Home.
A home. A dream. A hope. A vision.