My new home.
Double cul de sac.
Three streets before ours shows the No Outlet sign.
Nobody will drive down our street,
to our circle, unless they intend to.
There is a front porch;
I’ll put my rocking chairs there.
There is a beautiful entryway
that I will decorate for each season.
I will sweep the dirt and rocks and dust away,
so my guests will feel love at first sight.
There is a picture window,
perfect to display a Christmas tree –
the red, white and silver one
that made our Christmas new.
There is a family room,
perfect to display a second Christmas tree,
the one I’ve always wished to add,
the one that will hold the ornaments
of Christmases past, present, and future.
There is a dining room that we will fill with conversation and wine glasses.
There is a kitchen with sprawling countertops,
a canvas for me to set out a buffet,
or make peanut butter sandwiches for lunches,
or open pizza boxes for a football team.
There is a breakfast nook that looks into the backyard,
a backyard that’s big enough for a game of catch,
a snowman family,
and a slip n’ side.
There is a double wide staircase
where two people can walk side by side,
where someone can sit to talk on the phone,
where boys will walk past the master bedroom when they come home from the homecoming dance.
There is a bedroom that is mine,
for now only mine.
A bedroom where no one has died.
There is a writing nook,
a rounded studio basking in windows
where the sun will shine
and I will read and write and write and write.
There is a living room,
a wall to host my mom’s piano,
a gift to me.
There is a fireplace for stockings.
There are built-in bookshelves for bound journals.
There is a finished basement
with a bedroom for guests,
a bathroom for their privacy.
There is a sprawling, carpeted space
for a family of three –
or a party of four –
to have Friday night pizza parties, movie nights,
chocolate chip cookies, and sleep-togethers.
There is room.
Room to grow,
room to share,
room to love,
room to bless.
We are blessed to bless.
My new home.