I love my house in the same way George Bailey loved his.
George loved the house that trapped him and kept him from conquering the world.
The house that leaked and was never finished, the bannister post coming loose in his hand each time he climbed the stairs.
And I love my house too, despite sneaky spiders, ruinous ivy, unfinished rooms, creeping lychee and leaf dunes.
George Bailey and Me.
Nature and people made me a home.
It took me a while to see.
My home is spiders that make us scream.
Ivy that coats the walls and, somehow, waves green fingers into rooms.
Rooms that contain nothing but overdue ideas.
Lychee maps that tattoo walls and trees like magic.
And leaves that dance.
George wasn’t trapped.
It just took him a while.
It took George a while to see that Mary, Pete, Janie, Zuzu and Tommy were all he wanted.
That and the old house.
The one where the bannister post came loose in his hand as he climbed the stairs.
