On a rainy day in Charlotte...
On February 18th, to be exact, the children and I entered the door below.
That is the front door of the lake house of a woman who has become a dear friend.
Soon after our arrival, my friend lit the fire seen below.
She made cappuccinos on her fancy machine.
I put my feet up on the table.
Ate the homemade cookies we brought.
I took photos, rested, daydreamed, sat in silence.
She and I shared secrets, laughed, cried, and I exhaled.
On this rainy day in Charlotte, March 16th to be exact,
I would LOVE to be back at that house, with that fire burning,
those thick socks on my big feet up on that solid table.
Sipping tea. Or, better yet, lapping up another of her fancy machine cappuccinos.
Talking to my friend.
Staring out the window at the lake.
Finding comfort in the steady drumming of rain on the copper roof,
the scratch of the pen on thick paper as I journal,
the flutter of pages turning as we read.
The children, upstairs, enjoy a fire of their own.