The day before a bonny home, the day after an ashen wreck. Even looking right at it, even recalling the flames, it didn't feel real for a while.
A house has a way of becoming part of your life, of becoming a home, a place of memories and years lived. To watch it burn. That was hard. We can and will rebuild, naturally. We'll build a new house right here and in time perhaps be at peace with how we came to raise it up from the ashes of the old. I guess it helps to picture that new place, that new home, as if it waits for us in the world of future time.
The house fire took all it could, yet the walls of stone remain firm. What is charred will be soothed with plaster and made pretty once more. For when a house is this well made, it can be reborn after such things, with a little patience, with a lot of love.
Flames rise into the night as if they challenge the heavens to stop their consumption of what was our home and place of sanctuary. Yet fire is impatient and the heavens breathe eons and moments as if they were one. A new house will rise because we will build it with our own hands and toil.