I lingered as I sometimes do in front of the book cases. Old spines...the oldest born in 1688 to newer ones on average just a 130yrs old. Isn't that something?
I looked at Goyo--we've named the bird Goyo. And the sculpture so like a Rodin that the three of us fell in love with (of all places we found her in Vegas and she didn't stay in Vegas). And turn of the century microscopes, knick knacks from about the world and a child's bracelet that jingles now and again all on it's own.
Many things in one room all with a history and a life--a history before they arrived here with us. Things that endure...persevere...and the pause that says, "thank you" to nothing in particular or maybe...perhaps...it's an internal thank you for recognizing how lucky I am for having about me things with lives far older than my own. Perhaps I am luckier than I have ever imagined--we gain years by seeing, by feeling the depth of life (good and bad) and in that act it makes these old "friends" of mine speak volumes of silent mysterious stories...the awesome kind that leaves one in wonderment...that grant me hours of peace just being in their presence.