As he walked up the drive back to the house he could feel the sand and mud caked on his trousers from where he'd been digging for treasure. Bushes and trees along the way started flashing bright rainbow colours of piercing, glowing light from the raindrops hanging on their leaves. Birds, noticing the special occasion, sang more melodically. The blackbird was inspired to start a new song. Flowering shrubs on either side seemed to flower more intensely.
What was the cause of all this commotion? It was the crystals in his pockets bumping against each other and generating rainbows as he walked home. The hidden treasure of mother earth that he'd been digging for.
The house, sensing the vibrations of crystal rainbows, started to smile. It started doing other things too. Building up the fire. Running a hot bath and heating the oven for fresh bread. It even thought about where they might live next with the wealth of the rainbow crystals coming home in his pockets. Where might that be?
A house can be a house,
And that is a poor thing.
A house can be a home
And that resides at no fixed location or address.
A home resides in the heart
And this...
This was a home.
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