Shalom in the home

I have a theory about people and their houses: the home of a person who feels really comfortable and at peace when they are there sort of soaks in that peacefulness and it eminates from the very walls of the space. I used to think this peaceful house phenomenon only happened with aging hippies, but now I realize that it can be anyone; aging hippies just tend to have a sense of peace about them. Some peaceful homes I have encountered are the Gelbarts' house, my great-grandma's house, Matt's mom's back porch, and the peaceful home to end all peaceful homes: Kathy and Howard's house on Jefferson. My goodness, you walk in that house, and it's like all your troubles have melted away. Sometimes they would go out of town, and we would be in charge of feeding Caramel and Missy the cats. I didn't take near enough advantage of those times when I was allowed to go in that house all by myself and bask in the serenity. One time they were out of town during one of those pre-spring warm spells, when for a couple of days in late February or early March, it's in the mid-70s and sunny with a nice breeze and you're tricked into thinking it's time to start planting your garden. During that time, I went over to feed the cats and then sat on their back porch -- screened in, unlike ours -- and sat and played with Caramel and let the sun and wind calm me. It's one of the most peaceful moments I can think of. Since then, at this time of year when spring seems to be creeping in, daylight savings time has started, and march madness is on tv, I long to be in a peaceful house with a peaceful back porch on a peaceful day. This is my ultimate goal: to have that kind of pervading serenity and calm in my house.