My favorite room faces the south at the front of the house. The walls are all painted a non-descript beige and lend to it a quiet demeanor. It’s a place of solitude and letting go. No screens are allowed here except for the occasional glance at a phone to change the music on the blue tooth stereo. Currently, however, muted rock music carries in from the back of the house along with the scent of tonight’s dinner – hamburgers and fries. The still silent stereo sits atop a white fireplace.
The four sunflowers in the green vase on the left side of the mantle have long since lost their scent. Still, in their withering beauty, they are a quiet complement to the eighteen-inch sculpture of Meridon who stands astride her horse in an acrobatic pose on the opposite side of the mantle. From where I stand, I face the room’s windows. Night has fallen and nearly all four panes of the window are cloaked in black. Only the lights emanating from the house across the street shine through.
As I appreciate the view, I kick off my shoes, letting my feet sink into the plush, burnt ochre area rug. Then, finally, I sit. It’s been a long day and here is where I come to unwind. The red lamp that sits on the electric keyboard bathes the room in a crimson glow. I settle back, enjoying the quiet, and let myself relax.
Until next time… where do you go for a moment of solitude?
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About the Author
Minnesota-based author, Joie Lesin is a life-long fiction writer and the author of The Passenger. She has long been fascinated by anything otherworldly including ghosts. She loves to write a good ghost story—especially when it includes a touch of romance.