WHERE THE HEART IS

I have been to the mountains,

To the forests,

To the oceans,

And have even taken to the air.

But none of it, has been anything

Close to being called home.

Home is where our stories begin,

And from time to time,

Where they end.

But it is also said that

Home is where the heart is.

It is where love resides, where memories are created,

Where friends always belong, and where laughter never ends.

It is a refuge when times are hard.

It is where you leave everything you love behind

And never question that it will be there when you return.

It is where you are most loved.

To some,

There is no such thing as home.

But to others?

Home can be a place, a person, or even an object

That makes you feel happy and safe.

It could be anything.

It is not about how big the house is, no.

But rather how happy the home is.

There is no place like home,

And it is full of love.

There is only one happiness in this life,

And it is to be loved.

To me though, home is not a place or an object.

No, to me love is a person.

A person that I love.

Chestnut hair that falls short over chocolate colored eyes;

Eyes that seem to be able to

See right through me.

A smile, that puts butterflies in my stomach.

A voice that sends chills down my spine.

A touch that makes goosebumps

Rise upon my fair skin.

A man that knows me like nobody else,

Who sees me in ways that nobody else ever will.

A man who helps me through my darkest times,

And who loves me when I cannot even love myself.

He is my light,

He is my love,

He is my life,

He is my everything.

Because when I am with him, I am happy.

When I am with him, I feel safe.

With him, I am cared for.

Because with him by my side,

I can be whoever I choose to be.

But without him, I am tragically and hopefully lost.

With him, I am inevitably home.