This Old House

This old house deep off the road.
This old house set back above the water.
A house shedding white paint, black shutters attached.
A house hoarding spider webs and sheltering mice.
A calming effect cascades over me as I enter this old house.
A peaceful warmth grows up from my toes to the base of my skull when I enter this old house.
Music filters in and out of each room, upstairs and down.
A red lab dog with a bicycle seat shaped head loves me in this old house.
Smells of spice, flavor filled meats and kindness permiate the wallpaper in this old house.
Prints, paintings, carvings from far lands and even longer ago times form the decor in this old house.
Bits and pieces from several houses long gone to the ground make this place whole.
A whisper of a grandmother echoes often throughout the chilled basement as clothes are washed and dried in modern machines.
A grandfather's command of work to be done in the fields hums, bouncing off the walls that form the room once worn thin from entertaining.
Soft furs, moth eaten tuxedos, tattered Christmas ornaments comfort the past spirits in the attic.
This old house with no leaks in a storm.
This old house with shelter during struggle.
This old house. This old home. This haven.