Dream home

Our home had tapestries of flowers from Guinea in the walls, switch baskets full of flowers, yellow courtains in the windows and bamboo furniture in the living-room. It had a big fireplace, and sunflowers candelabra. There were wooden African statues of hunters and animals everywhere – elephants, zebras, lions, gazelles and even wild boars.

Our home was full of books – there was more than one thousand. Those books went to Africa… They are probably in hands of children that need them more and love them more. I miss those books – old friends – but what good would they be doing accumulating dust in an old empty house where no-one would read them? So, they will be friends of their new readers, and give them all the riches and fantasy that they gave us. For the best.

Our home was full of memories. I’m sure it still is. It has seen our children arrive, and grow. It has seen our love story, our parents, our friends, our dogs and birds. It has seen our dreams grow and break. It has seen our efforts, our tears, our joy. A part of us remains there.

Now, we can only dream of a home – a home of children, of parents, of Love, of dogs and birds and flowers. A home where we can rebuild our dreams, our work, our family. A home where we can be… And finally find our refuge, our rest after this long storm.