morning fog dog's bark echoes across the water

Halloween House From the outside, one would never guess what lies within. At a glance it is a small, one-story house nestled in between other houses on a gaping cul-de-sac. Getting closer reveals a hodgepodge of children’s skates and knee pads tossed carelessly on the stained and cracking cement near the front door. The grass grows a little higher than one is accustomed to, and the remnants of plastic Easter eggs are still snarled in the trees on tangled strings. Inside the house little balls of dog hair blow across the hardwood floor like tumbleweeds in a desert, and a firm coat of dust rests on nearly every surface. The couches are festooned with slightly dingy throws and the stairs creak when you walk on them. A picture in the hallway is consistently just a little bit crooked, and nine times out of ten you can find a mostly-emptied ash tray tucked inconspicuously under the bathroom sink. It is an imperfect house, complete with dents and dings that make it flawed, yes, but also make it comfortable. It is a house as real as its residents, who have been known to scream at each other on weekends and holidays but also to support each other when the going gets tough. Just as it is not just a house, but also a home, its residents are not just people, but also a family, and the place in which they live speaks of their ordinary everyday beauty. creaky porch swing traces of Halloween spider webs still caught in its chains weed-filled garden a rusted bike as decoration