One month later, fate intervened to allow me to rent, for way below market rates, the little 1928 hand-built cottage down Woods Road where the late Victor Powell, beloved piano teacher for many Orangetown residents, lived for 50 years. As of this writing, prospective new owners are preparing for possible construction of a new house in late spring.

I have never been so in love with a place. I have a running list of the reasons why: The unbearably perfect river views, the full moon as bright as the sun beaming through the windows in the middle of the night, the tiny, irregular staircase that I climb to the cathedral ceiling bedroom, the bike riding to Church for celestial singing on Sunday mornings, the late night starlit walks, the new unexpected friendships with people 20, 30, 40 years older than I, the piles of books from the Palisades Library, the no TV, the 10 years of anxious NYC living melting away, the new kind of familiar quiet, the sound of the wind, the 100 year old trees creaking, the deer and birds that have befriended me in the wildness of this nearly abandoned house, the magical memories of my childhood home on Washington Spring Road, its 150 year old wooden frame nestled into the valley beneath the watchful eye of my new home’s owl-like perch, my nearness to Dad…

Maybe, I reason finally, the house represents the long goodbye I didn’t have the chance to have with Dad. That death was sudden, this, a slow goodbye, a visible transformation, a strange twilight of constant joyful sadness. Here, time has expanded, almost stopped. Each moment has never felt so free, so full.

This place is alive. A creature as wild and glowing as the birds and the moon. It reverberates and rings like the inside of an acoustic guitar, a solid wood sounding board for over 50 years of piano playing, singing and art making. Like a painting on the wall, whose paint strokes represent the vision and decisive energy of the painter's hand, frozen in time, this house is art born of builders who cemented their creativity, foresight, playfulness and individuality with their bare hands into the ground: This is our home, we will make it here.

To be able to be – and appreciate being - within the walls of this singular stroke in time is such a gift. Dad gave me that gift as well – he taught me to always see the potential and the value in the rustic, the peculiar, the non-conformist. To proudly pursue and inhabit one’s own vision.

For 79 years, this small place has been holding the space for those people willing and able to enter into its individual beauty. And now this place holds me.

I feel embraced, safe, loved and very alive, attuned to the house’s powerful vibration. ”I can’t believe this is my home”, I say to myself. “This is my home.”

When Dad was in the hospital, he had his own mantra, "I want to go home, I want to go home.” To which I responded without pause: ”But I am your home. I am here. You are already home.”

So now I say to little 49 Woods Road: I am your home, and you will live through me, no matter what your slightly dilapidated but inspired walls may become.

Katie's 49 Woods Road creative projects include: a series of abstract landscape paintings, a new recording project featuring her entire band recorded in January at the house over three days, a DVD documentary of the house/recording project filmed by Rob Barrett, writings/a memoir on ideas of Home, Reiki Healing Arts, singing in the Church Choir, and playing the piano late into the night.

On Saturday March 31st, Katie will perform her music at the house as part of a Spring Equinox Celebration concert: “Salon 49”. All are invited. For more information, email Katie at ktecreator@yahoo.com or visit www.katieelevitch.com.