Do they speak to you, too?

I do tend to anthropomorphize my belongings,
I believe I mentioned that in an earlier entry.

My divine Carol Hicks Bolton couch is named Babette.
And even though I most certainly do not
consider my cat Winnie a belonging
(she is my daughter, after all),
I do have the odd moment every now and again
when I feel certain she's a tiny little human inside a cat suit.

But it goes beyond that.....look closely at my small vase above.
Where the crackling is on the glaze, the slight darkening resembles
nothing so much as veins and arteries. "It's Alive" she exclaimed!
After all, I'm positive that she spoke to the very core of who I am
and what I love when she came home with me 12 years ago.
And she's been speaking to and inspiring me ever since.

They speak to you too though, don't they?

That whispery yet persistent voice which tells you
that home for them is whichever way and whereever place you're heading.
I mean, how else to explain the absolute "right-ness"
of that one very special piece we all own?
The one we were sure we couldn't afford
yet could not imagine leaving the market without?
It's their fault....they speak to us.

They can be pesky and strident little boogers when they find their mark....
even so far as haunting our thoughts and dreams
in the days and months to follow
should we not heed their supplications
and invite them back to our domicile.
Armed with regret and hopeful anticipation,
we invariably head back to the marketplace and find,
to our utter dismay, that they spoke a bit
more loudly to someone else....who listened.

Shhhhhh, I think I hear Babette.....

back for my next post after I learn
what's on her mind this fine Wednesday.

This post was edited to remove
any photos not taken by myself, Anne Lorys.