I never thought I would eat a tick, but shortly after this stop in Florida, I totally proved that wrong and can scratch that off the bucket list.
Eat a tick – check.
That was the worst taste ever.
But on a more positive note, this was a cozy little abandoned home that we stumbled into in the middle of Florida. While most of the home remained empty, some rooms were littered with remnants of past lives scattered about. Half of the home was minus a floor, and thankfully my walking across this section did not spell the same fate for this half, or my body.
A soft and gentle sunlight flowed in, gleaming through the warmed glass panes of grungy, dusty windows. A calming smell – that from sunlight warming the old wood top of an unswept dining table; why did this seem so familiar?
Time in this home stood still, while objects remained scrambled throughout the mess. This particular room weighed heavy with a strong, though relaxing presence – that of a mild, quiet summer day – the one that most of us can curiously recall from childhood memories. Perhaps that was why the smell seemed so familiar.
Silence settled the dust as it fell slowly to the tabletop, dazzled in sunlight.
I looked around me.
The whole room flickered.
It was as if glitter had been thrown across everything the sun hit. A single book survived, half-way open and face down into dusty floorboards; the spine cracked as I picked it up. Both halves fell toward each other, snapping together. Dust sprang through stale air, like sparks firing from the book’s edges – pages touching for the first time in years.
The atmosphere filling this home could leave anyone feeling crestfallen.
Find my first book “Empty Spaces” by clicking HERE