I’m writing this from a place where towels smell like a fresh bloom at spring time. Where ice toffee cake is served for dessert and baked potato w/ beef and melted cheese for breakfast. Where the dad and mom keep big cars in the garage w/ automatic doors. Where they do not wash the dishes (leaving the task to the dishwasher). Where the second floors and the stairs that lead to it are fully carpeted. Where the windows allow a picture-perfect autumn to anybody who looks out of it. Where the kids each have their own rooms and each have their own collage of patches from places they've visited. Where a nerdy 17 year old kid could dream of college anywhere and plan to take flying (a plane) lessons in summer. Where a pretty 15 year old sleeps w/ her huge collection of ornamental frogs and fills up her room with photos of family and friends. Where a playroom exists for the kids, their friends, homeworks, projects and sleepovers. Where a cute cocker spaniel named Rocky freely roams and is spoiled rotten.Where the dad is a doctor and a mom is a housewife. Where guests are treated like bestfriends.
The place is a brick-walled mansion in Charlotte, North Carolina, and for four nights, we are its guests.
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