I was lying flat on my back, panic attack. You came to hug me and kiss me and comfort me, so I let you in.
We spent the weekend cleaning and singing and smiling and drinking and more cleaning.
I will never forget the way you looked, lying there next to me. You mentioned the essay that I wrote about my commitment issues with my house. You told me softly, that you understood it. Then you looked at me, with tears in your eyes, jaw clenched tight and said that that morning when you came downstairs, that you came down to a home, not just a house. It is a happy home with waffle bellied kids. You are right, I am finally home; And your heart is the front door.