The Life a House Holds

This timber house on a hillside holds more than design. It holds decades. Christmas Eve arrives

first. Tires crunch on gravel, headlights sweep across wooden panels.

A couple steps out, breath visible, arms full of bags and a tree. Inside,

the fire snaps. Ornaments clink softly. Laughter echoes off white walls.

Then summer. Same kitchen, different energy. She stands by the window,

arms crossed. He faces away. No words. Just the hum of silence.

But winter returns. The gravel crunches again. A child bursts from the car,

running toward the door. Voices overlap. The house fills. Time collapses.