The House was cared for expertly over time. Windows sanded, painted, time and time again: sanded, painted. Over time, the house was sculpted thin as a violin, and the wind, which used to groan across the storm doors, now sings around the whole structure. One day soon, when the sea is lapping at the crawl space, and the walls are as thin as a kite’s membrane, the house will let go from its foundation and take flight over the sea.
However your heart is
in this moment —
aching, joyful, afraid, sleeping —
let it be that way.