And I hope one day, you meet her in some historic street, or in an old bookstore, or in some countryside field, and I hope she loves the way you speak with your lisp, and I hope she likes the films you like, and I hope she writes you poetry at 2 am. And I hope her words finally feel like the kind of home you’ve been looking for — the kind of home you’ll grow old in and never leave, and the one you never found in me.