A longing

What's it called when you feel homesick for a place you've never been?

That's what I seem to have.

There are moments when I feel you, see you, hear you, and I believe it.

A sudden onslaught of memories that haven't seemed to have happened, rush back to me.

Of a life that doesn't belong to me.

At least not yet.

It floods my senses, even just for a fleeting moment, it's all consuming.

Like a flickering on the screen, not quite sure if it's real, but it pulls at your mind just the same.

I feel the longing the most in these memories.

I feel homesick for that life.

Even though the ache slows my breath,

it's the deepest joy I know.

To experience the potential before it's even real.

To know what can be.

This is the home I will build will for us.

Not only a place, but a belonging.

The memories will guide me.

The pangs will motivate me.

Even in solitude, I remember what home should feel like.

What it will feel like.

My compass is true and my intentions are clear.

It might not yet exist.

But I promise you this,

I will build us our home, my dear.