It's the pile of laundry that looks like the leaning tower of pizza and the empty plates stained with triple berry pie filling by the sink. It's the drizzle of threads littering the floor from a recent sewing project and the cool breeze that flees through the house, bringing coats of dust with it -- but we don't care because it's just a little too crisp and cool to be shut out. It's home.
It's when life suddenly flashes before my eyes, and I feel something that isn't happy or angry. It's just wonder. Dear life, I like you.