Saturday, January 24, 2015

Confessions of a Note Lover

I'll be honest about something. When I came home yesterday to the note on my kitchen table from my realtor, I chuckled. I shared it on Facebook, because I thought it was funny. But since the time I found it yesterday afternoon, I've left it there. Right where it was. Because I like to come home to a note on the kitchen table.

I like to pretend for just a second when I enter my door and see it waiting there, that someone wrote something for me. Something for me to come home to. I like to pretend that someone was there. That I'm not all alone in the house every day and night.

To me, the note on my kitchen table is as cheerful as a vase of flowers might be.

It is, in a way, kind of pathetic. But coming home to a note used to be one of my mainstays... and it's one of the things I miss the most. 

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Help me feel less alone.