Sitting in the living room, music playing, watching the light shift easily across the room… waking up in the middle of the night to the muted, orange glow of the streetlight outside our bedroom window and his arms wrapping around my waist… It doesn’t take much. In this place, I am totally present, perfectly content; I am home. Home.
On my return trip to the City yesterday, I retraced a route so familiar to me, traveled more times than I could possibly count over the last almost 27 years of my life, that I could drive it in my sleep. When I passed those tall, mirrored, geometrically designed buildings (heading East) and the signs for Chicago Loop, a familiar feeling washed over me.
All at once, I remembered the wide-eyed wonder of being a kid, sitting in the back seat, squinting up at the reflection of those iridescent facades--the knowledge that we were almost to the city nearly overwhelming me with joy. And contentment. Because even then, being there made me feel like the stars had aligned. Indeed, they have, today; reliably at times, but also in ways I never could have imagined… the last few years have been a tremendous test of many things, but... we are here.
Together. Finally.
Not since my childhood home have I felt such a sense of utter belonging. I had forgotten that you could fall in love with a place so completely (pair that with falling in love with your soulmate in a million new ways all over again, after almost 9 years and, well, you can see why I am so dizzyingly and willingly overwhelmed with passion and filled with vibrant existence). Here we are, filling these spaces with laughter and sighs, waiting for Spring to unfold as the Sun stays a little longer every day, filled with vibrant anticipation. We are home, in every truest sense of the word.
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