My headlights give me a glimpse of my future, 100 feet ahead of me is a 100 closer to home. My lonely lights on the highway guide me back to my source of strength, the essence, my every reason to be who I am and what drives every step forward.

Pedal down… I’m coming home.

Car in the driveway, bag on my back, the moonlit walk up the steps and through the door to find her waiting at the top of the stairs looking down, loving me from up high.

I look in her eyes, I see my dreams, I see my home.

She smiles and waits for me to come to kiss her, each step up is a weight lifted. One after another, my troubles fall apart and I leave them behind my boots as I keep stepping. One step after another, I make my way to my wife.

It’s been 100 days filled with millions of moments and any one moment can change a person.

Some days I come home a grateful man, a problem solver, a passionate lover, and a gifted listener with the purest intent. Other days I come home a mess, a madman, a person I’m not proud of or making excuses for. He’s my weakness and the ugliest part of my soul exposed. He breaks us down with our bullshit, tearing apart everything we worked so hard to build.

The duality of my personality.

Who am I this time? Who came home?

We love the kids we met, she and I. Only teenagers when we found “us”, connected, exposed our most vulnerable selves to one another and immediately left the rest of the world behind. That was years ago and we were inseparable. Now, with the time we’ve lost that I’ve spent away over the years, we’ve perfected this dance of rediscovery. Each hitch home is a new “us” to meet again, and fall in love once more.

I take my steps, one after another, up those stairs and closer to home. She’s happy to see me, ready for the person I am, with a smile and a hand on her hip. I reach the top and drop my bag. I take her in my arms and kiss her with the passion of every missed moment we spent apart. The longing of every endless night alone missing each other. The torture of every mile of road and sea that stood between us. And then the knowledge that I was rediscovering my wife again. For the hundredth time, we fell in love.




Born and raised in Bayonne NJ, & rose from a derelict childhood to become a husband, father, writer and union member.

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Rob Galvin

Rob Galvin

Born and raised in Bayonne NJ, & rose from a derelict childhood to become a husband, father, writer and union member.

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