Once Norm had finalized his basic dreams in the material sense, however, it grew obvious that the inner rebuilding which still clamored for completion could not be done alone. He was the sole spark of life in a house from which the cobwebs of deceit could never be wiped. But for an attic full of worn out memories, his was an empty house. Houses, of themselves, do not indenture the heart; thus, without regret or apology, Norm came home. January was the coldest it had been in years, or so it seemed. To brighten the blustery evening, Norm had invited me to share a pizza with him at his house. I gladly accepted the invitation and spent several pleasant hours staring at a lively fire and talking. I departed feeling very content, never suspecting his oppressive loneliness. Norm had concealed it from everyone, and it came as somewhat of a surprise to see him standing at the door so soon after saying good-night; loneliness pooled in his eyes and I realized it had filtered deeper than any cursory glance could have perceived. Personally, I was elated at the prospect of sharing the upstairs with my brother, especially if living at home was what he truly wished. Several years earlier the arrangement would not have succeeded; then he sought to free himself from the constraints of youth through establishing his own credibility as a functioning part of society. Now he had tasted life's offerings, the sweet and the bitter, and knew that he could alter his happiness through certain changes on his part. Loneliness was one pain which he had the power to alleviate; his return was a matter of choice, not defeat, and with a clear conscience regarding his desire, pursued his intent. After assuring his welcome, he and I drove to his house so he could secure a parcel of clothing and other necessities for the night. As one household began to dissolve, the family home eagerly digested the other's former occupant and his belongings. It took several months for Norm's house and major furnishings to be sold, but those objects that he wished to retain were loaded unceremoniously into sacks and stashed in the attic or placed hastily about various parts of the house. A microwave found its station on the basement counter, and shelving provided a haven for his stereo equipment. A handsome recliner stole a living room corner and became known as NORM'S CHAIR; if he entered the room to find HIS CHAIR occupied, he didn't quite know where to sit. It became evident that this home was his home and, with an ample dose of personal interaction and companionship, the emotional wounds had begun to heal.