The House In My Head

At least half the people in my family are anti-social. I don't know if it's genetic or we are all shy, or we all were raised by people who said it was okay to stop talking or not come out for dinner. But every once in a while I get a picture of one of these houses in my head and nothing else seems more comfortable

       

The first thing I think of when I look at these places is: how peaceful and calm. The second thing I think of is how long it would take before things got scary. I wonder about the stars at night, the creak of the floorboard when I put my feet on the floor, playing music really loud, and the smell of the air. I wonder if I would argue with the person I went there with, or get annoyed if he kept sniffling aggressively instead of blowing his nose. I wonder if I would dream about city streets, or whether or not I would miss my neighbors. I wonder if this person and I would not speak much or if conversations would pour out of us. I wonder if we would get sad or worried or have sleepless nights, or if the only complicated thing would be in getting there.