Time at home

I walk across the hardwood floors feeling the dip of the wood under weight, hear the gentle squeeze caused by edges closing the spaces between the slats. My aged and worn moccasins splitting at the seams are thin enough that I can feel each crevice, each beginning and ending of each slat, but I put them on each day as protection and warmth.

My house is old and new – a foundation and frame built in 1900 with everything else put in place ten years ago. This place has an old soul having stayed in place making only minor shifts, expansions and contractions, with each passing season. This old woman has a crawl space with a large stone and wooden post logged centrally reaching upward to touch the sky and remants of canning are evident on the crossbeams.

Despite the surface trappings of modernity, the dishwasher, the fresh paint, and the furniture, I feel the agedness of this house and me. There is no secondary sound of children’s voices, no rush to prepare meals, no hovering thoughts of young minds and managing behaviours. My sons are gone, but my father remains with us. His breathing is laboured now, his lower jaw often hanging open as he leans slightly forward, shoulders rounded, to pull the air inside his bony frame. Time is here and evident in the presence and absence of everyone and everything.

Yet,my daughter, held back in development by a seizure disorder, walks about my home as if defying time. She has not aged with us and is developmentally still young, still a child. She walks the length of the living room looking vacantly in no particular direction, sometimes squinting for no apparent reason, and pausing to slide past objects in her path. She exists between worlds; the one of conscious awareness and the one of dreams. Sometimes I think she is so lucky, this beautiful soul who fills the space of my home.

11 thoughts on “Time at home

  1. How beautiful. My heart ached with the passing of time, but my soul was filled with warmth reading about the joy and positivity your daughter brings ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I have been reflecting a lot lately about how fast my life is going by and even though my children are 13, 11, and 10, I know they soon will be gone. The part in your post where you talked about how there was no rush to prepare meals, no sounds of children. This part really resonated with me because I often wonder what is to come. Thank you for sharing.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That “wondering what is to come” has stayed with me being a parent to a child of special needs and two who are not. Yet, in many ways, it’s the same. Thank you for commenting and helping me think about my own writing.


  3. So beautiful. I loved this line, “There is no secondary sound of children’s voices, no rush to prepare meals, no hovering thoughts of young minds and managing behaviours.” Like the comment above, I’m in the crunch of parenting, but I know that it will end soon enough. This made me think about how each time in our life how its own challenges and joys.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. So wonderful to take a moment to breath with our home space and appreciate all it offers. Welcome to the slice. Looking forward to reading more.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. This is exquisite. I felt like I was taking every step with you and could picture it all. You’re a beautiful writer, I’m so happy you are joining us. Looking forward to following along each day.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Such a lovely start to this month. This line about your daughter really caught my attention: “She exists between worlds; the one of conscious awareness and the one of dreams.” I have to say, too, that I love the way the house is simultaneously old and new & how your awareness of the various ages grows through the piece.

    Liked by 1 person

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