Pick something in the picture below and write about it. Use descriptive words, etc. Use your imagination, craft a story about someone or something and tell us all about it! I want to see your perspective.
Six months, one hundred and ninety days, four thousand five hundred and sixty hours, two hundred seventy-three thousand six hundred minutes, sixteen million four hundred sixteen thousand seconds. That's how long it has been.
We've been without a place to call ours, to call home. We perched temporarily with my parents and now are guests of friends. Yet, my heart aches, longs, yearns for a resting place, for a place just for us.
See that house in the picture? The one that tries to camouflage itself as normal in the midst of the rainbow. It too aches...for a family to call its own.
The windows have forced their way out to form a cozy window seat. Waiting for someone to curl up with a book so tender that tears fall down, down, down onto the cushions.
The porch sits empty but hopes for a swing. Back and forth, creaking so slowly. Words tumbling out as someone sits, the neighbor leaning on the fence listening.
The kitchen still has faint smells of brewing coffee, freshly baked cookies, spicy enchiladas. Sharing of day's events, work completed, life lived around the table.
The bedrooms with their vacant closets call for life to return. For clothes to be hung, for shoes waiting to be worn, for books stacked upon the bedside tables.
"Oh empty aching house, can we color your walls with new life? Place pictures on shelves of wood? Stack beds with piles of pillows? Open your doors and windows? Let spring's fragrance of birth flow through? Can you be our resting place?"