If we were a house, you would be the door who lets me in, the floor boards that keep me steady, the couch that captures me in a deep embrace. You would be the roof overhead, arms stretching wide into protective beams running through panels above. You would protect me.

If we were a house, I would be the window that opens wide to stir the thick air, the stairs that bring you higher when you feel as though you must stop, the blanket that keeps the drafts from reaching you. I would take care of you.

If we were a house, you would hug me, and I would say “I’m home”.