The house sat quiet. It was waiting for the return. It was patient. It had been too long since we visited it last. But there it was. Serene, peaceful, unassuming and waiting. We turned the lights on, reset the temperature, checked on the motorcycles, watered the plants and the house came back to life. Just for us. An enchanted cottage. Waiting nestled between the trees. You could almost feel it sigh as we brought our life back into its life. Who can deny it is not so. It is an integrated part of us, our life and our story. It has helped shape our story. The texture of a life includes not only the individual but the energy of the world you occupy. This house is a healing place. It is not mere wood, brick and mortar. It is a part of our family. It has a shaman quality to it. It permits us to shapeshift into a part of us that so often gets lost in the rush of a day. Sanibel is like that. Home is ageless.