It is simple to us.  It comes easy once more.

The pull I feel to be by his side is stronger now than it has ever been.  Maybe it is so because I know what it was like to be without him, to be ripped apart from him.  I was drawn to him even when there was sadness, anger and hate mingled with love and longing.  The pull I feel to be by his side now is heavy and constant and heady.

We share at least two meals together each day.  Sometimes, I sit across from him at the little table at his house where he studies and eats.  Other times, we go to my favorite soup or ramen place.  Sometimes, there is light conversation; sometimes we eat in silence; sometimes he cracks a joke and I laugh, he laughs; sometimes he wants ramen for lunch and dinner – I tell him to go get the ramen himself, he pouts.

At night, I lie next to him.  Sometimes I do because he asks me to stay; other times, there is no need for an invitation.  We lie down on the thick blanket in his room – and dream with our eyes open.  When I hear him breathe and sense his warmth, home is there; when I hear him start to snore lightly, home is there; when he turns and faces me and sleeps without a care, home is there; when we lie there and look at each other, speaking without words, home is there; when his eyes smile and tell me the story his lips don’t, home is there; when he wakes and mumbles sleepily as his stretches his long limbs, home is there.  When he shuffles me off to the shower first, so he can catch a few more winks of sleep, home is he. 

He is what home is.  He goes, I go; he breaks, I hurt; he smiles, I rise; he calls, I’m here.  It is simple to us.  Every day comes to a start and a close a little easier these days.  There is a streak of diamond in the horizon.  There is that bit of me that has finally stopped searching.   He is here.  The pull I feel to be by his side is stronger now than it has ever been.   Home is who he is.