Memory from Aurora house

When I think about Aurora and all it had to offer us that year, my thoughts turn to a basement which could have been quite lame. Yet through the contributions of key individuals from our household a barren basement turned into a man cave that I yearn to return as a trout desires to swim upstream to it's home.

Just once more I want to feel the vibrations of the dominating speakers that Andy set up. I can still hear them beckoning me to come around the corner and down the stairs into the soft glow of Mark's carefully hung Christmas tree lights. Then a large glow catches my attention and draws my eyes to a large hanging sheet where pixels are doing battle. My heart leaps, David or Mark must have signed out the projector from ITS. As David's PlayStation 2 hums gently in the corner I face my first decision: fall gracefully to the mattresses bellow, swing in the sleep inducing hammock, lounge casually on my flip and tuck, or find a home in David's well worn chair. I know no matter which path I choose it is the correct one and that for the next several hours I am home.

I can never go back and see that basement again since it would be like seeing a rain-forest's charred remains. Even though my head tells me that that special place is back to being just a basement my heart tells me that our man cave remains because it was beautiful and beauty always remains.