Observing - Sammy Walkey

It’s times like this, When I come home to see a fluffy Maine Coon sprawled across a woven rug by a roaring fire, Embers twirling up the brick chimney like escaping ballerinas, The TV cheering with a recording of last night’s game Pictures of a family trip to Spain dotting the old hallway, And a family of four at the dinner table, waiting patiently to finish prayer, Amen, and eat, That I think to myself. I’ve never been to Spain. I don’t know who these people are. I’m pretty sure I just wandered into a random person’s house.