What it Feels Like to Find Home

Crush my body into yours, my heartbeats echo against yours. This love is permanent, and I don’t always feel like breaking. Sometimes, I’m fragile, but inside, buried deep is someone strong. I was not always so broken. Sometimes, these stories I weave make me forget character versus author. Who am I versus who am I writing? I want to be the strong girl I was before he crumpled my heart. What was once whole and beautiful can once more be beautiful. The way you fold into me when we fall asleep together, the way your breath falls on the back of my hair, and I feel your embrace squeeze gently into me. I feel safe. I have found my way home. I know these words don’t flow correctly, and I know my story is told in fragments, but this is where I’ve wanted to be.

The other day, you were driving through hillsides, and I looked at the trees with their leaves changing into burnt browns and reds, ferocious oranges, the color of fire, and I fell in love with life again. I told you how I never saw myself settling down, but damn if I didn’t dream of road trips with music floating through the car, our smiles, your hand on my knee. I didn’t know if I would find you, but now I want to settle down. I want the house and kids running around, barbecues, birthday parties, your family coming round, my family visiting. I want our lives to fold together. I want this forever. I want to keep you. I never thought I deserved the good kind of love, but I’ve kept you for a year-and-a-half, and each passing day makes me love you all the more.

I have finally found a place to rest my head. I have finally found a home after all the stumbles and falls. This is where I belong.



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