i love how they told me to come home. like i've ran away or working in another country & they were just awaiting my return home. which is both, in any case but then again, that's for another story.
i also love how they think they could be home to me, think that they are home to me, if how they uttered the words were any indication of their confidence in the thought.
lastly, i love that they are the ones telling me to come home. my best friend & my lover. truly, a home to me.
from another view, i like to think i'm home to them. they have been living under the stars, sleeping in friends' couches, waiting for the time they can come home. they have been homeless after all these time. but now that i'm back, they can rest easy, knowing they're back home and with all the makings of a great one - food, shelter & love. all of which i can & will provide, paid in advance & no expectations of being paid back in full.
because now that i think about it, what is a home if not for the people making up of it? nothing, just a house. an empty, dusty & dark four-walled shell of what it could be.
and so it's a deal. an unwritten, unspoken deal that i will give them what they want, just that they come home only to me.
a done deal.
everything is as it should be. especially the lack of capitalization, punctuation marks & the shortcuts of you & your, okay? let it be, salamat