Home With You

Hold my hand while you’re driving me home,

As though it’s the last time we’ll ever make this drive,

And it’s not to my home,

Or to yours,

But OURS—

The place where I will share your bed,

And you’ll steal my snacks, just to replace them with more,

And I’ll watch you lose yourself in your favorite game,

While I lose myself in the pages of a book,

And you’ll stroke my hair,

Fingers threading through the strands,

While my head rests in your lap,

And I drift into a peaceful nap,

And I’ll do the same for you,

Not because it’s a favor to return,

But because I know the comfort it brings.

I’ll dance around to my music while I cook,

The rhythm of joy mixing with the scent of something delicious.

We’ll make tacos and cookies at midnight,

When sleep escapes us and the world is wrapped in silence.

It will be the place where we love like teenagers,

With hunger and fervor, reckless and free.

And you will claim me in every room,

On every surface,

Leaving me breathless, my body trembling,

Clinging to you like a lifeline,

As you whisper praises in my ear,

Reminding me that I’m your good girl,

And your beautiful wife.

The fire between us will never wane,

It will grow, an eternal flame,

Flickering in every touch, every kiss,

Burning brighter with time.

We’ll wake slowly on a Sunday morning,

The quiet space between us filled with your soft kisses.

I’ll someday waddle, swollen with child,

Still making pancakes for you,

Even as my water breaks, spilling life onto the kitchen floor,

And we’ll laugh, together in the chaos,

Calling the doula and midwife for our home birth.

And if the hospital calls us instead,

You’ll still hold my hand,

Driving me home once again,

While I cradle our infant in my arms,

And we know we’re already home.