Resilience

The black and white squares gleam in the tree-filtered light that pours like sweet lime juice through the kitchen window.

Silently shining, the tiles reflect children’s socks sliding, diapered bottoms pushing off to find freedom in motion.

With a sturdy softness, the weathered floor braces the delighted soles of cooks. The cheerful eaters dance, drawn in by the scent of roasted, ripened love.

Somehow always comfortably cool, despite the baking from inside and out, the humble platform invites busy body bones to sit, stretch out, tell tales or just listen.

This unheralded dais is, in fact, the place where life happens.

Depression

The weakened rays meekly dust the floor with a remembrance of light.

Icy fingers dampen the spaces between old wood beams and the graying cracked cover.

Feet of all shapes and sizes shuffle listlessly along its spine, longing for the ready warmth of rugs and slippers.

The daily meal seems distant, dull, made without fanfare. Eaters emerge reluctantly from their darkened rooms to consume and retreat.

Inside this cold silence, the sullen floor sags, certain the wood beneath it has turned to rot or dust.

It should not be trusted to support anyone.