The Boathouse By Michelle Dee

I recall this night with warm, inviting people, huddled around fires, within and without. I remember passing around wine and losing all sense of time. Faded news cut-outs fragmenting on bathroom walls. And the dusty allure of an overcrowded kitchen. I see pictures of fire-lit faces; old ones with names you remember, new ones with same you forget. The easy movement, the ebb and flow, a non-conformist celebration, without expectation. And my words in a chilled, excited whisper ... ... 'I feel right at home,' an inspired revelation.

Copyright © Michelle Dee 2010

thisisUll.com Featured Writer Michelle Dee
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