Your Hugs Feel Like Home

Your hugs feel like home.

A home that promises a warm glowing fireplace. The kind with a fuzzy rug that invites lazy naps, easy talks, and safety… solace… certainty.

A comforting shelter that shields biting sleet and drowning rain, with arms of solid logs and roof of perfectly fitted cedar shingles, like our entwined fingers.

A cooling respite from the burning rays of an unforgiving sun.

But is this home built on sand or rock? A beach that washes away with the feckless winds of my heart, or a mountain that rises eternal, withstanding the relentless, buffeting blows of time?

Is this home real?

Do I want it to be?