“I knew I loved you when suddenly ‘home’ went from a place to a person.” ~E. Leventhal
Love is the Bermuda Triangle of emotions.
It seems as if no one has a solid explanation of what it is or how it happens—maybe it’s a mirage, maybe we are all simply crazy. I find myself at a loss for words when I attempt to describe what the damn thing is. I can never find the right words to string together to form an accurate description—a description that would serve my emotions justice.
I may not be able to define love, but I was absolutely certain when I was in love. I knew I loved him when his presence became the place I wanted to go to rest and to collect myself and my thoughts. The place where my soul felt most at ease.
I knew I loved him when he felt like home to me.
You’re walking through the door and kicking off my shoes after a long day.
You are curling up in my own bed after a week away from home. Smelling the fresh and crisp sheets, the ceiling fan on high. Resting my head on the cool side of the pillow.
You are the first home cooked meal after a week on the road, living off of fast food. A home cooked steak with mashed potatoes and green beans, with my favorite glass of wine.
You’re the perfect cup of coffee on a Saturday morning. There’s nowhere to be and nothing to do. Every sip gets it’s moment to be savored—nothing rushed. No responsibilities to worry about.
You are a Sunday afternoon nap. Head tilted back on the front porch swing—sun on my face, and the spring breeze in my hair.
You’re the icy glass of water I look forward to after being in the hot summer sun.
You’re a rainy evening spent with my favorite book. Snuggled up under a fuzzy blanket with a cup of hot chocolate topped with the giant marshmallows.
You are arriving home on a Friday night after a long work week.
You are everything comforting to me.
Everything that makes me feel safe.
If you are home, then I am becoming a homebody.
Author: Emily Cutshaw
Editor: Caitlin Oriel