Things a House Should Have, by Susan Lesser

A house should have —
    A door that opens wide and welcoming into the front hall where there is a bouquet of sunshining roses resting on the little rosewood table that belonged to your Great-Aunt Vera who brought it home from India in 1906, but no on knows how she managed to do that.
    Another door that opens into the kitchen where loaves of bread are baking in the oven and, on the countertop, a bowl of apples nestles in beside the chunky white candle you light each night so the flame can launch evening thoughts and prayers for thanks and hope.


A house should have —
    Windows, many windows.
    Old windows with watery panes that change the asphalt road out front into an impressionist rendering, turning straight lines into undulating curves, and the branches of the towering Norway spruce into a hidden forest filled with elves and fairies.
    New windows that are double-paned, or triple-paned (I really can’t tell you) that close tight against the frosted breath of winter while you stay snug by the wood-burning stove.


A house should have —
    A roof that shields you from both the searing afternoon rays of the summer sun and the nighttime rain that from time to time performs its tap dance along the eaves.


A house should have —
    Open spaces where family and friends collect for birthday parties with a chocolate cake decorated with M&Ms and the right number of candles; spaces for cooking and Christmas trees, for playing games with thumb-worn cards, and for just plain old sitting around and talk, talk, talking,
    Closed spaces where you can sleep and dream and plan and write and read and maybe cry, or just gaze out the window until sunset comes to say good-bye to the day.


A house should have —
    A garden with spring bulbs that surprise you with their enthusiastic blooms because over the winter, you forgot just where you buried those lacquered brown knots, but they waited all the way through the short days of winter to pop up right now and say, “Here I am!”
    A garden full of peonies and pansies, lilacs and lilies, and especially parsley and sugar snap peas. They will all be happy to have you sit on the wood-strapped bench with your cup of lukewarm coffee and admire them before you pick the yellow squash for dinner and the blue indigo for the centerpiece.


A house should have —
    At least one someone to live in it, maybe more than one, maybe not. In any case a house is meant to hold lives and lifetimes and, without a someone, it is like a book with only a cover, an eggshell without an egg. Because, after all, a house should be a home.