Welcome to The Twelfth House

Make yourself at home—inside, you’ll find stories meant to soothe, stir, and spark.

Dearest Friends,

Welcome to The Twelfth House.
Please, come in. This is a passion project, nothing more—a long-held vision, finally taking shape. You’re invited to linger or drift in and out as you please. The seed for this space was planted years ago. In fact, a dear friend gifted me the domain back in 2020, encouraging me to begin. Time passed, as it does—but the pull remained. And now, at last, I’ve put pen to paper.

What is This Place?
The Twelfth House is a cozy little archive filled with writers’ observations and short stories of humanity - survival, joy, transformation, magic, nostalgia, compassion, healing, boredom, empowerment, and love. These short pieces and ponderings capture everyday experiences and the otherwise “unseen.” This is how I write for myself, but it’s also how I experience the world. So you will inevitably get a peek into how my brain works - for that, I can only say, for your safety, please keep your arms and legs inside and enjoy the ride.

The content you’ll read here is intended to be indulgent, devoured like an extra scoop of whipped cream or room service champagne. This House is a safe and quiet space to feel seen - and to see - to be soothed, reminded, to smile, consider, and maybe even feel a joyful spark. If you find something you’re looking for here, well, that’s a bonus! Please feel free to share ah-has and reflections with the House Caretaker.

What’s in a Name?
Apart from having an affinity for the number 12 - it’s my birth date and an old house number - the twelfth house has astrological significance.

In astrology, the twelfth house is considered the “realm of the unseen,” governing things like dreams, secrets, and emotions. This house exists just beneath the horizon, meaning it’s quite literally “the darkness before the dawn” and therefore the house of positive transformation.

In all, The Twelfth House name felt like the perfect fit for this collection of musings and scribbles. You might say it was written in the stars.

Anyway, thank you all for coming over. I’ll be here weekly, but the door is always open and you’re welcome any time.

With love, Katie

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El Hombre de la Panadería Sevillana
Seville, Spain

It was a Tuesday morning. I found a little bakery in Sevilla just one block over from my apartment. I sat in the corner with a slice of cheese and tomato toast so good, it deserved its own love letter.

A thin middle-aged man with dark hair and glasses was sitting diagonally from me at a table near the door. He was reading a newspaper - an actual newspaper! - in solitude while sipping his morning coffee. He had a half-eaten pastry on a small dish in front of him, crumbs strewn across the table. Every few minutes, he would gently fold the paper over into one hand to pick up the pastry with the other and take a bite. Sheer delight is the only way to describe the expression on his face as he chewed. It was mesmerizing, and it endeared him to me.

About 10 minutes after the pastry was eaten and the coffee drained, he began casually eyeing the counter. The woman at the till had disappeared into the back of the shop to help with prep. I’d like to believe he saw her absence as an opportunity to drive by the refrigerated display without inquiry. And he took it! Trying not to draw attention, he slipped from his seat, paced past the counter with an air of pretend purpose, then quietly returned to his spot.

I laughed to myself. How genuinely relatable! I hope he gave himself enough time to get a grasp of the selection and make a confident choice.

When the woman returned to the till, he rose again. This time, he fumbled a bit in front of the display until she asked if she could help. With all the surprise and innocence he could muster, he ordered a slice of cheesecake.

She plated it for him alongside a fork, and gently set the ensemble in his eager, outstretched hands. Again, he returned to his table, but not to his paper. Instead, he shoved the fork deep into the slice and pulled up a mouthful. Sheer delight!

Author’s Note: I was grateful for this sweet reminder of humanity on an otherwise ordinary Tuesday morning. I wonder about him still. Was he celebrating? Did he finally have alone time after hosting his mother-in-law for a week? Was he a regular? Were he and Time good friends, and thus it passed more slowly for him?

Lately, I’ve been practicing Joy as a radical form of activism. And with some effort to remain fiercely present, I’m seeing it everywhere.