Home is wherever I'm with you
(written back in January)
Home is a familiar feeling, a state of mind that I reside in. Home is a constant, even through moments when I feel like I lost my key. Even in these tear-blinded wandering moments when I feel like a little kid walking home after school only to find I’ve been locked out...
But I’m never locked out.
The best thing about the home I’ve built (and I have built it; painstakingly, organically, slowly and joyfully) is that it follows me around, like it’s been surgically attached. I’m never more than a day or two out from catching a glimpse of home in my peripheral view and going “oh yeah! Check you out, hot stuff. You awesome home, you.”
Home is resting my freezing toes against your warmth as you play your silly boy video games. Home is having my headphones in and tapping my popsicle feet on your bare thigh. Home is the fact that I have a quota to fill per hour of letting you catch me smiling at you. Home is the fact that, in the rare moments this occurs, you let me cling against your chest with silent tears tracing down my face and dripping off my nose because the world got a little heavy for a minute. Even though I’m sure it scares you when you see me losing against the storm clouds... but I think you understand now that by your presence alone you bolster me with the strength to fight them off. I joke about it “filling my meters” when we get skin to skin and I cling tight to you pressed up against that nook between your head and your collarbone, but I’m dead serious. I honestly can’t remember how I used to cope with life before I had the evanescence of your warmth, the luxury of your touch.
Home is cradling your head in hats made with my hands, knowing that I have touched literally every inch of the yarn that keeps you warm.