Incense smoke billows into the rays of fading sunlight
from the nostrils of the stone Buddha head
sitting on the wooden bookcase
which sits in front of the only downstairs window
that looks into the cul-de-sac

I stand in the spreading fog
listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers
over the radio static
on knock-off studio headphones.

My cousins are outside, breaking up dirt to be shoveled in the morning
and I can hear the dull thudding
of the *** against the large rocks
above both the calm silence of the house
and the semi-gurgled music playing in my left ear.

I turn around to look at the kitchen;
the counters are clean
so are the dishes
and a small plate of freshly baked cookies
is sitting in the middle of the island.

I walk from the carpet of the living room
to the warm tile of the kitchen
and the scents around  me change;
The overpowering smell of the swirling mist
being overpowered by chocolate chip cookies
fresh baked bread
and homemade spaghetti sauce.

I smile as I stand in the middle of the house