The door opens. Upon the fresh air of the breeze wafts the scents and sounds of those entering, voices and smells melding, molding, muddled, and mashed — the cacophony of a house becoming a home.
She’s so welcoming your mother. She’s such a welcoming person in fact sometimes she’s too welcoming and we feel embarrassed and then it makes me and other people feel that we’re not welcoming enough.
Steve O
warm windows, something sweet drifting in the air, hot coffee, and a smile.
I welcomed a baby girl into the world on May 3, 2015. She came out with gusto, crying and crying at the top of her lungs. She was four days late, but worth every second of waiting around.
Jennifer Simpson
Opening your door to the fresh air and the personalities that waft in with it. The fragrances mix and mash and meld and mingle and even muddle, but all compile to make a house a home.
jlulo
Standing on doorstep, we want you to open, but we don’t want you you language, the phraseture you offer, we just want – you decor, aesthetic, welcome us, but don’t stay for our visit
I rang the doorbell and immediately regretted it. What the fuck was I doing? What would this accomplish? It had been months since he’d even spoke to me, hell, it had been months since I had stopped caring (had I?). He opened the door and a huge smile graced his face when he saw it was me. “Hey!” He hugged me awkwardly and I had no idea what to do. “How are you? I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Would you like some tea?” He ushered me inside his house and left towards the kitchen to prepare some tea while I waited for him in the sitting room. I tried to compose myself because my face probably looked like I had seen a ghost. I plastered on a smile and tried to quench the butterflies that were starting to upset my stomach. What had I come here to do? Honestly, I really wanted to punch the bastard, I wanted him to yell at me, I wanted to yell at him and then punch his face. That would’ve been fine. But no, he had to go and be all welcoming. Maybe I’ll just punch him anyway.
The aroma of freshly baked cookies and pine tree filled her nose as she walked into her childhood home. It was almost Christmas and her mother and father were in the kitchen, baking up a storm to feed the group of family and friends who were coming by the next night for dinner. The tree was up in the corner, fully decorated, though fake, and a pine scented candle burned to give off the scent of a real tree.
AV
welcome every one to my grand festival of new York.
Jenny
The dawn is a welcoming start to a new day. As the sun peaks above the horizon I take a moment to reflect upon all the opportunities the day may hold. My thoughts focus as the s
jennifer
She threw the screen door open, unleashing a plume of smoke and an olfactory assault on her guests. Grandma is nothing if not welcoming, though you’d think from her cooking methods that she secretly wished death on everyone who stepped foot in the house.
Those big brown eyes, sparkle with mystery, but they’re welcoming me; embracing me into your soul. Constantly welcoming me into your world.
Melissa
Her voice welcomed them, it reached deep into their skin and twined around their blood as it flowed through their veins. She allowed her voice to carry her to their hearts, they had no defense against their own blood.
Jack Attack
Her eyes were always so. Blue lights, welcoming me; I was never wrong, never bad, never disappointing, even when I was. Nothing stopped her love, nothing kept us apart, even distance. And when she left, I promised myself to be better. She wouldn’t think it was possible. But that was why I wanted to be.
nyla
Activity practice
Emily
I find school welcoming. Teachers and administrators make school a place that I want to be. A place that I can learn and make friends and have fun experiences. A welcoming place is one that I should want to return to more than once; and in the case of school, I get to go everyday for 180 days per year!
Emily
Placemat runner, because one home isn’t good enough… because one home is not a backup home, and a backup home is not a backup’s backup home, the fear a time someone won’t want me anymore.
They don’t let me stay long enough to know the rules, because I am an excess in acceptance, a shape shifter of character, only doable in fractions at each door.
I thought it would be, that windy summerday six months ago. But as the days passed by I realized… nothing will be welcoming, not as long as I keep believing that every single person is you.
The door opens. Upon the fresh air of the breeze wafts the scents and sounds of those entering, voices and smells melding, molding, muddled, and mashed — the cacophony of a house becoming a home.
She’s so welcoming your mother. She’s such a welcoming person in fact sometimes she’s too welcoming and we feel embarrassed and then it makes me and other people feel that we’re not welcoming enough.
warm windows, something sweet drifting in the air, hot coffee, and a smile.
I welcomed a baby girl into the world on May 3, 2015. She came out with gusto, crying and crying at the top of her lungs. She was four days late, but worth every second of waiting around.
Opening your door to the fresh air and the personalities that waft in with it. The fragrances mix and mash and meld and mingle and even muddle, but all compile to make a house a home.
Standing on doorstep, we want you to open, but we don’t want you you language, the phraseture you offer, we just want – you decor, aesthetic, welcome us, but don’t stay for our visit
I rang the doorbell and immediately regretted it. What the fuck was I doing? What would this accomplish? It had been months since he’d even spoke to me, hell, it had been months since I had stopped caring (had I?). He opened the door and a huge smile graced his face when he saw it was me. “Hey!” He hugged me awkwardly and I had no idea what to do. “How are you? I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Would you like some tea?” He ushered me inside his house and left towards the kitchen to prepare some tea while I waited for him in the sitting room. I tried to compose myself because my face probably looked like I had seen a ghost. I plastered on a smile and tried to quench the butterflies that were starting to upset my stomach. What had I come here to do? Honestly, I really wanted to punch the bastard, I wanted him to yell at me, I wanted to yell at him and then punch his face. That would’ve been fine. But no, he had to go and be all welcoming. Maybe I’ll just punch him anyway.
The aroma of freshly baked cookies and pine tree filled her nose as she walked into her childhood home. It was almost Christmas and her mother and father were in the kitchen, baking up a storm to feed the group of family and friends who were coming by the next night for dinner. The tree was up in the corner, fully decorated, though fake, and a pine scented candle burned to give off the scent of a real tree.
welcome every one to my grand festival of new York.
The dawn is a welcoming start to a new day. As the sun peaks above the horizon I take a moment to reflect upon all the opportunities the day may hold. My thoughts focus as the s
She threw the screen door open, unleashing a plume of smoke and an olfactory assault on her guests. Grandma is nothing if not welcoming, though you’d think from her cooking methods that she secretly wished death on everyone who stepped foot in the house.
Those big brown eyes, sparkle with mystery, but they’re welcoming me; embracing me into your soul. Constantly welcoming me into your world.
Her voice welcomed them, it reached deep into their skin and twined around their blood as it flowed through their veins. She allowed her voice to carry her to their hearts, they had no defense against their own blood.
Her eyes were always so. Blue lights, welcoming me; I was never wrong, never bad, never disappointing, even when I was. Nothing stopped her love, nothing kept us apart, even distance. And when she left, I promised myself to be better. She wouldn’t think it was possible. But that was why I wanted to be.
Activity practice
I find school welcoming. Teachers and administrators make school a place that I want to be. A place that I can learn and make friends and have fun experiences. A welcoming place is one that I should want to return to more than once; and in the case of school, I get to go everyday for 180 days per year!
Placemat runner, because one home isn’t good enough… because one home is not a backup home, and a backup home is not a backup’s backup home, the fear a time someone won’t want me anymore.
They don’t let me stay long enough to know the rules, because I am an excess in acceptance, a shape shifter of character, only doable in fractions at each door.
A cactus has open arms, yet isn’t welcoming.
I thought it would be, that windy summerday six months ago. But as the days passed by I realized… nothing will be welcoming, not as long as I keep believing that every single person is you.