For us,
the feeling of home had never been a place, it’d been just that; a feeling, a moment. It had been every time we were together and every second we finally got to get each other at the airport after months.
So it makes sense that each of us are still wrestling with the physical and concrete idea of home,
in all the best ways.
There’s so much I want to say to explain the way that I’m feeling and all the ways that I know he feels the exact same. But looking at each other after we hang up something permanent on the walls or buy some silly chair cushions and when we can’t stop saying,
“I love our home,”
that’s how I know.
That’s how I know that we’re home, that the very permanent nails in the wall hanging our memories and possessions mean that this place is permanent, that it’s more than the weekends or summer leave we’re used to. That it’s ours for now, to make a life and a home and memories in.
And that is just so stinkin' meaningful to me
I don’t know how to put it into so many words.
My favorite part of marriage so far are all of the simplest, most normal moments. Certainly ones we’ve never had the blessing to experience before. Finishing dinner, then taking the puppy for a run. Coming back, cleaning up. Doing dishes. All the really really mundane boring stuff. Maybe I’m just speaking like a newlywed, or someone who’s just finished a four plus year relationship where seeing the other person with a wait anything less than two months time was something to shout about, it’s all just really normal now. We’re starting to get our rhythm. And I’ve never realized how much I am absolutely in love with these moments of normal, boring, mundane, comfortable things.
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