The house is located on a small island. So small even, you could walk across it by feet in 30, maybe 45 Minutes on the shorter edge. What the island is missing in depth, it has added in length though, being probably five times as wide.
The house sits on a small hill thats roughly in the middle of the island, giving it a good view of its shores on either side. On a sunny day like today, you can see the silhouette of to the mainland from the living room window emerging from behind the nordic nature of the island and the sand beach that gets longer or shorter with the tide.
Right now, the water is moving away from the island, slowly but steady giving it some land back until the sea will claim whats hers in a few hours. Seagulls are taking the chance to hunt for snails and worms in the wet and muddy sand that no longer is protected by the salty water.
From the kitchen window on the opposite side of the house, where he is standing and doing the dishes, none of that can be seen, of course. All you could see from here except the offshore wind generators would be the shore of Norway, if it wasn't that far away. On beautiful days like this, he likes to take his time when doing the dishes, watching the various birds that live on the island in the dunes and the reflection of the sun on the seemingly endless North Sea. The repetitive motions combined with the view have something meditative to it. The radio in the living room is playing some music in the background that is matching the beginning of spring perfectly. Life is good.
She is upstairs in a small room packed with all kinds of things, probably working on one of her handiwork projects. The two of them are the only two people living in this big house, that is almost a mansion, with more rooms a reasonable person could ever need. In earlier days, this house was probably the home of three generations of a family, and given its architecture, probably some personnel that was keeping everything tidy. The family that lived here was probably the richest on the island, owning lots of ground. Nowadays, there is a lot less life in the house. Almost half of the rooms are empty, as there is just no need for a third bedroom or a fourth bathroom right now. There is a lot of happiness in the house though. Both of them are enjoying the unhasty life on the island. The clocks just seem to run slower here.
And in seven more months, there will be at least one more room in use, with one more soul inhabiting the house. They'll need a crib for that room. They'll probably need to get that from the mainland by ship.
At least thats what I imagine as I watch the house get smaller by the minute through the window of the ferry. The small wave the ship produces pushes a little water back towards the island, causing some of the birds to abandon their search for critters and fly away. Just a minute longer and the ship takes a turn, vanishing the house form my sight.
The ferry moves closer and closer back to the mainland, back to calendars and budgets, back to clients and deadlines, back to noise and problems and hecticness, to goals and reviews and a quantified self.
I'll keep thinking about that house a lot in the following days and weeks.