Four years ago today, I married my best friend.
When I wrote my second novel, Simply Sara, one of the themes that developed was the idea of home, and how home isn't necessarily a place.
What I've discovered in this past year is exactly how true that is. Since our last anniversary, we've lived in Eugene, Portland, Memphis, and Richland. At some point in the future (and goodness knows when) we'll move again, this time across town into our freshly-built house.
We've lived with family, we've lived far from family. But no matter where we are, my home is wherever Danny is. As much as I miss my family, my friends, and the trappings of familiarity, I need Danny more. No matter how unsettled our living situation is, as long as I'm with him, I can manage.
The thing is, no matter where we are, Danny's feet are still ticklish. He still consumes large quantities of ice cream and Hot Tamales. He still complains when his hair gets too long and it flops in his face. He still opens my car door. He still reaches for my hand when we walk together. He's still taller than me, even if I'm in five-inch heels. His smile still lights up his face (I know it's a cliché, but it's true). His hug is still the one that truly makes things better. We still get each other. Our "us-ness" remains the same, even if our location has shifted.
He's my home, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
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