What captivates me during evening walks at this time of year is the warm light coming from inside of the homes I pass.
I think about mothers standing at stoves in the kitchen. I imagine wooden spoons clicking against the inside of metal pots, electric can openers whirring, and kitchen drawers sliding open and shut.
I picture fathers in overstuffed chairs, reading the newspaper, and sipping their favorite beverage.
These images are cliches, I know. The reality is that both parents are probably contributing to the evening meal. Spoons and pots have long been replaced by beeping microwaves -at least on weeknights, I accept that.
But somehow the reality of express living seems less warm, less inviting. So I allow myself the imaginings of what was.
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I'll be away from the internet for a few days. Look for a new post on Tuesday.
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