It’s Sunday morning, and I wake up to his arms blanketing my tired body. His effortless warmth eases my soreness from the week spent sitting in office chairs and sweating in dance studios. When I need to reset, he is exactly what I need.
It’s autumn, but he is year-round summertime. His hands warm my body, and his heart warms my soul.
He is home. I am home. We are home.