Whether it's quiet whisperings slipping through my door, the riot of an electric guitar, or a feline squabble, the BaoHaus is always full of noise and life, crescendoing sometimes then falling away to a hum of machines and light breathing.
I am constantly thrilled and overwhelmed by the vibrancy of our lives. Even in the quieter hours, the house is only a squid at rest, perhaps hidden in the murk of the deep sea, but eyes half closed, muscles taut, ready to pounce when the right fish comes swimming along, swaying its shiny seductive scales into reach. It is a living place in its own right, growing as we grow, each room an organ with purpose, each interaction a catalyst, powered by the trotting of both human and cat.
I'm not certain where I'm going with such a metaphor, but when I think of all the globules of fat stored away here for when we need that extra energy boost, and the flow and exchange of liquids, I know that this is more than just a house, it is our home, and it is beautiful. And I am so glad it isn't fucking freezing either.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
And I will bear my bones to the BaoHaus.
ReplyDeleteI will strip down to skin and song,
weave through strung lights and
rags swirling on ceiling fans.
I will bear my teeth to books;
purge consumption in favor of
becoming.
And I will be the bear cub
who danced crazy in politically-incorrect
pow wows of boyhood.