A Soft Greeting

I felt the solid plastic lid resting firmly beneath my base. I did not move—a house stays where it is planted. But inside my wooden frames, a quiet warmth gathered. Looking forward through my carved windows, I saw the pastel plush cone resting softly on the quilted blanket beside me. I parted my voice for the very first time and spoke a crisp, gentle greeting into the quiet room: "Good evening." The plush stayed resting, and I remained firmly in place, ready to answer whenever spoken to.