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OK, Linda, you asked for it again, and this time I'll post it. I wrote this about a year and a half ago and have spent the last half-hour trimming it by about 30%. Warning: it's still long, lol.
Cheri
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As we approach our home, I rejoice that we have returned just in time! Early spring flowers are blooming profusely. The grass is trimmed to perfection, the shrubs pruned, the trees straight and tall, but most of all I love the flowers.
We open the richly-stained walnut doors to an entry paved in rough-finished granite and finished with matching walnut trim, vaulted and lit by a chandelier of intricate and delicate ironwork. The entry leads to a great room where groups of leather furnishings invite me to sit and relax.
However, I am anxious to explore the rest of the house, as we have been away on a month-long vacation to Greece. With a quick kiss, my husband and I part ways. He has a meeting with his publisher in about an hour, so I won't see him again until dinner.
First, I glance into my office. It is just as I left it: furnished in cherry and walnut with built-in bookshelves, credenza, and cabinetry. My desk gleams, having been polished only that morning by the staff. The computer beckons...my silent partner! "Later" I promise it, and continue down the hall, toward the heavenly aroma of something delicious baking.
On my left, a large entryway leads to my kitchen, which is similarly floored and trimmed in granite, walnut and cherry. A welcoming mid-morning snack of sliced apples, fresh-baked carrot-zucchini bread (my recipe) and a jug of milk in a bowl of ice are laid out on the breakfast bar. My personal assistant has started without me, but stops in mid-bite to welcome me home.
After a quick hug, I settle down beside her and ask about her children.
She's a single mom, and I am happy to pay her a generous full-time salary for part-time work so she can see the kids off to school and be there to greet them and care for them when they return. One of them, the oldest, is taking pledges for a walk-a-thon to benefit diabetes. I pledge $500 per mile--he hopes to win the prize for the most money raised! I excuse myself to go on with my tour, and my assistant makes her way to her office to begin her daily routine.
Passing through the formal dining room back into the great room, I double-back to the left of the great room down the hall to the master wing.
Large double doors similar to the entry doors lead to the master suite, which consists of a main bedroom, with smaller doors leading to a lavish master bath, his and hers walk-in closets, and a sitting/craft room where I pursue my hobbies.
The bed is so high that I need a set of steps to get on it. (My husband, who is 13" taller than me, thinks it is the perfect height.) It is made up with a silky quilt and masses of pillows, and looks as if you might sink into it over your head. To one side is a grouping of two comfortable chairs with reading lamps and a small but high-quality stereo setup. There also resides my personal library of favorite books, ready at hand for re-reading when the mood strikes me (though many of my favorites are also in my office where others are welcome to borrow them). When we just want to be quiet and read, my husband and I sit here together in perfect privacy.
My sitting/craft room is almost as large as the main room, because my husband insisted on having a large-screen TV somewhere in the house so that he can watch football and basketball games. When I join him there I give most of my attention to my latest cross-stitch project, a Christmas stocking for my youngest grandchild. In fact, all of my hobby projects are there also, tucked away behind paneled doors.
My husband's publisher has arrived, and I can hear the two of them murmuring in his office where he does his writing. Adjoining it is his music room, where his collection of recorded music in the genres of rock and blues (mostly) is displayed in row upon row of vinyl and CDs. His stereo system produces the highest-quality sound we could find. All of his writing is inspired by and is about the music and the artists.
Stepping out the French doors to the patio, I wave at the gardener, who is planting my favorite annuals, and offer to come and help. Although he laughs at me, I miss doing my own gardening when I haven't had my hands in the dirt for a while. I make a mental note to make some time to do that soon. Tomorrow, the wonderful mementos of our trip that we have had shipped home will arrive. I will spend some time placing each of them with care amidst the beautiful and exotic mementos of other trips that grace the tables, shelves and niches of our home.
And now it's time to get to work! After a month away, my mind is brimming with new projects that I want to capture, and I have a meeting later this afternoon with the Executive Director of our foundation to consider two new grant requests. I sit in my familiar leather chair and greet my computer...hi, friend! Thanks for keeping my business going while I was gone. Let's do some more!
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