Close your eyes....

I can vividly remember the first night...

They sipped pink champagne in long fluted glasses and in between the vinyl grooves, they set their drinks on the mahongony table...

And it left rings in the morning....

She swirled and twirled to Ray Charles, Bobby Vinton, Louis Armstrong, Chubby Checkers, The Tijuana Brass....and just for fun...The Grasshoppers....He dipped, and spun....and laughed....

I sat on the couch and watched. Long gangly legs in a pink velvet dress and blonde bangs chopped off to match my Barbie Doll. Kimbies and I had to be very, very quiet, or we had to go to bed....

I barely breathed.

On the blue carpeted floor, they shimmied and watootsied and "Love potioned Number 9'd" each other.....

And then I grew up....

I went to first grade, and fifth, and senior prom. I fell in love and out of love. And got married. And divorced. I raised my babies. I danced on coffee tables, balconies....and beaches. I danced in empty bars, at concerts, in traffic, and in the kitchen....

But I never forgot...
they might have, but I didn't...

The magic of that night...

Of them closing their eyes and feeling the music....

I believe in Magic...

The Talking House and other Urban Legends....

I found this house in the middle of the night. Wandered by it after being slowly, surely Moonie~washed by Kimbies..."Just drive by, you're gonna love it"......

I wasn't house shopping. Wasn't thinking of moving. Wasn't dreaming of trading my barely used 3~2 with the double garage, cathedral cielings for a money pit. For a little pink house. And then I drove by it. On the fourth of July, just past midnight. In the morning I called the realtor. Three weeks later, we were family.....

And she's been talking to me ever since.

For the first few weeks that I was the proud homeowner of my new found wreck, Persichetti and I slaved every night after work, scraping, sanding, peeling, painting. We set the FM dial to the same tunes we jazzercized to Monday through Friday....Baby Face, Bobby Brown.....and worked until the wee hours. And night after night the radio would go zzzzcccchlllippppppppppppp....... "enough is enough", and land on Rolling Stones. First loves are always the ones that come back to haunt you.......

I've lived here forever now. And both believers and Non know the voice of my walls. The sudden slamming of her wings whispering "Listen"......Chairs falling from four perfectly good legs in an empty room, blue smoke billowing, the soulful cry of an animal lost, right there, in the nothingness of the kitchen floor ....... random music pinking, tinking, melodiously playing.....four notes on the piano, eight, eleven songs in a row on the computer the night of Nadine's funeral.....butterfly charms scooching out from under laundrey room fires.....the smells, the breezes, the welcome arms of my home. We know now to pause....

All's quiet tonight. It's time to rest......

JSYK, the faces in the door were accidental.....And along the way, we've decided they're the bubble bath fairies......