As he picked the cucumber
from the salad we ordered
and placed it on my plate,
I knew
he was my home.
He always noticed
the little things I did,
the things I liked,
the things I didn’t.
And somehow,
without me asking,
he was always finding ways
to make my life
a little easier.
Maybe home
was never a place.
Maybe it is simply
being loved
in all the little ways
I never knew I needed.
This was written by our contributing writer, Luna Baic.
Image Source: Pexels, Arina Krasnikova
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