It is a house, nothing more than a plot of land and a few bricks. Just a house, a roof held up by a few walls to keep the rain out. A corner of the world to warm ourselves by a little. Just a house… A place to keep things and hang pictures and park cars… A place to find space hidden away for golf clubs to cob-web and toys to be played with an forgotten and left behind. It is just a house, except for a few subtle differences. For one, there is a georgeous lady in this place who brings all the meaning and truth to my world. It’s because of her that I am not some miser building a house on top of a lonely hill. Secondly, there is a small son here who finds love in me I had never known about. It is because of him that I come away from my building and storing and keeping at all. And thirdly, there are the faces of friends. The presence of people who breathe the same life as we do… In… Out… The sounds of ease and trial and challenge and support… And love… Their presence fills this place like birds fill the empty morning; and the sounds of their glasses clinking fills me up. If it wasn’t for these people, the glass would always be half empty. It is just a house. A plot of land, some walls and a roof. And i, i am just a man in a house. And yet because of you people… My wife, my son, our friends… I am a king and a giant in the presence of gods, and I am rich and grateful.
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