Yesterday the morning light streamed gloriously into my house. I stood in my kitchen comparing it to the kitchen of my childhood. My window now faces north with a smaller yard and house close. The kitchen on Main Street possessed a window allowing the eastern sun to beam. In the summer, the side door opened to the fine weather in the next room. Light flooded these two rooms. I thought of coming into the kitchen with Dad sitting by the back door waiting to serve his family. Coffee, grapefruit, cereal waiting for milk to be poured set out by him.
When I was fourteen I moved into the back room. The windows also looked to the east through the huge maple. The walls painted yellow added to the brightness of the room. Sometimes I had my bed under those windows that opened like doors and other times I had my desk in that little alcove. After breakfast, I returned to that room for my morning devotions in the sunlight.
My Amish friend battles with depression. She, in their retirement home, made sure they built wall to wall windows on both sides. She has eastern windows and western windows. Light brings a sense of well being. The fresh air cross breeze lifts spirits, too.
A house without sunshine, well, is just not a home.