ever since i was little, i have always imagined where i wanted to live, a dream home if you will. it has never really changed, it’s always been about the same. somewhere soft and secluded, surrounded by the trees and flourishing with flowers and fauna. where moss grows on the stone path and walls and rolls off the roof. a place where old souls live, full of mists and fogs of early morning mystery.
it had to rain often, i loved the rain, the smell, the sound. rolling over in the early morning to the gentle rhythmic pitter-patter of raindrops against the rooftop, the distinct perfume of petrichor wafting through a cracked window. i always wanted water nearby too, i’ve always loved the water. a pond, a lake, a river, a creek, anything really, if there was water i was happy. i didn’t want a very big house either, rather something small, something that made me feel warm, cozy, comfortable. and i wanted big windows, it needed to have a room with big, tall windows to look out of, something to let the sun shine in and soak up my melancholy thoughts, shine the shadows away. more than anything i dreamed of a home full of love.
but when i dreamed of my home, built its walls and designed its decor, i never imagined i’d find my home in a person. i never imagined i’d find my forest alive in your eyes, ever changing colors of the earth and sky ablaze in your soft and loving gaze, the sun lacing through the leaves in your smile, my sunshine. i never imagined i’d find the rhythm of the rain with my head against your chest and hand entangled in your own, listening to the life in your heartbeat. i never thought i’d find my mystery in the mists of your mind, brilliant beyond belief and capable of crafts and creations far beyond the depths of mine own. my warm, my cozy, my comfortable.
― you are my home
this was originally written as a single-paragraph prose piece, but i didn't like the way it looked on the website format-wise, so i broke it up a bit.
