Home Is Where Your Heart Is
I've heard the saying about a million times or so in my life. But I never really thought about it, until recently. Is home a structure, a building, or some type of dwelling? For me that's a definite No. It's a feeling. It's in the hearts of my family, my granddaughter, my kids, and my husband. It's the feeling of security I get being in his arms. Or falling asleep with my head on his chest, his heartbeat in my ear. It's his love and comfort when I've had a bad day, or am overwhelmed. When he wraps his arms around me, kisses me on the head and holds me tight when I cry. It's every tear, shared laughter, quiet loving moments, and even the fights. He is my home, my heart. It doesn't matter where we are, or go. It doesn't matter what "things" we do or don't have. As long as I can wake up each morning in his arms with a kiss, and go to bed every night in his arms with a kiss, I have everything. My heart is in his keeping forever, my heart is home with his.
April 21, 2019