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Sandra Novelly's avatar

Wood burning stoves in both the kitchen and the living room did their job well, but it was not the same.

He remembered when family gathered around a large table to be served their dinner from a large, bubbling pot of soups or stews made with plenty of potatoes to stretch a meager amount of meat.

Afterwards, they would sit around the blazing hearth to play the fiddle and sing the auld songs.

Ah, how he missed his lovely Irish homeland.

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Wild Lion*esses Pride from Jay's avatar

Happy Weekend Everybody!

80mg of Hearth(without title word count:80)

Leaving the Hearth, Rebuilding the Heart

I left the hearth not with certainty but with ash still on my skin. My heart stuttered, hungry for more than warmth—craving shape, craving truth. What cracked open wasn’t just walls but silence. I carried the ember. Rebuilt not with brick, but breath. A hearth can be mobile. A heart can hold fire. And when both collapse, I learn again: home is not a place. It’s pulse. It’s rhythm. It’s the light I refuse to snuff out, even in exile

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