“How is the house?” I asked my caretaker over the phone.
“Lonley.” he said.
I hung up feeling quite sad because I knew he was right. Houses have souls. Empty houses are lonely.
Each time I am away for a long period of time, opening the door I don't see the home I left. It looks a bit older, sad and not the place I remembered when I locked the door behind me.
A house becomes just a house when empty. It takes the noise, running about, chattering, fighting, loving and living to make a house a home. Without life inside its walls, a house dies. Truly.