There is a house that lives in the quiet corners of my heart.
A house not built yet of stone or timber,
but of dreams and scars stitched together by trembling hands.
It stands by the sea, where the waves hum their low, endless song against the rocks —
an old song, older than sorrow, older than grief.
This house is not perfect.
It is not grand.
It is a Summer House —
a Kingdom by the Sea —
built from broken ground, haunted soil, and the stubborn light of hope.
There are days it rises tall and proud,
its windows thrown open to the sunlight,
the wildflowers climbing up the stones like laughter.
And there are days it sags under the weight of old storms,
the gardens bowing their heads to the wind.
But always, the house breathes.
Always, it waits.
I dreamed once — or perhaps remembered —
standing barefoot within its half-built walls,
wearing a gown of worn lace and wild blooms,
the scent of rain-wet roses and sun-warmed stone thick in the air.
I dreamed of finding you there, waiting —
your hand reaching, the red thread already winding between us.
Not a ceremony.
Not a performance.
A binding.
No rehearsed vows were needed.
Our promises were in the way the thread circled our wrists —
once for grief,
once for love,
once for forever.
Somewhere deep within the beams, a candle flickered to life.
A small, stubborn flame.
Not roaring.
Not grand.
But enough.
It is said that when the sun and the moon finally find each other,
the house wakes.
The flowers bloom from the haunted soil.
The broken stones sing with light.
The thread hums like a heartbeat in the air.
And the flame —
our Everlight —
burns quietly, stubbornly, forever.
Between ruin and bloom,
between all the broken things we carried,
I found you.
And I knew I was home.
Not because there were no storms.
Not because we were untouched by sorrow.
But because even across oceans of time,
even in the darkest nights,
we chose each other.
We chose to build.
We chose to stay.
This house, this kingdom by the sea —
it is ours.
It always has been.
And it always will be.
Somewhere between ruin and bloom,
I found you waiting.
And I knew I was home.