A house becomes meaningful through thousands of events too ordinary to record.

The events that make a house meaningful are the ones nobody would think to record. Meals, arguments, television on a wet afternoon, someone humming in another room. None of it makes an anecdote, and together it constitutes almost the whole of a life lived there. That is what people mean when they say a place has something in it.

Be present for a few of those unremarkable hours rather than treating them as the gaps between events. They are not the gaps. They are the substance.