RETURNING

This home, in a small town in the foothills of the Adirondack Mountain Range, is a huge country home, typical of the area. It originally belonged to a doctor, the waiting room there on the left side entrance.

 I loved to visit here in the winter, driving up from New York City when I was older.

  

When I was very young, it was a short car trip which I would take with my Father for a visit.

Inside, everything is conducive to a sense of being at home - the lush fabric of the furniture, the rambling hardwood floors, the many unbleached linen curtained  windows, etc.

In this home were many items of which I was familiar since I was a very young girl.

For many years there were two barrel chairs sitting in that waiting room. They were bequeathed to me because they had been my grandparents'.  I can trace them back to their sitting in their dining room by the window between a fern.

 Now they are in my home in Florida, sometimes covered with recently worn clothes.

The light inside this house was brilliant, even in the darkness of winter.

 Gee, I miss that particular feeling that accompanies actually returning and being welcome for a moment in a life's time.