Feels Like Home To Me

You know . . . i've been thinking of you since we spoke yesterday, and how inconsistent, how crazy, or worse, how insincere you must think i am.

that is why i repeat the words--often i have repeated them--i do not think you realize, understand, know . . . .

how very much you feel like home.

because i know you as well as i do, though not as well as i wish i might, i do believe with all my heart that you need to take a stand. you need to become alive.

i've glimpsed the life in you longing to be lived. That, my love, has been your great gift to me.

i am happy with my lot, though that lot feels dwarfed and insignificant whenever i allow you to come near . . . which i do for about an hour, sometimes more, every waking day.