Snuggling her to my chest for milk, her eyes gazing up at me, lyrics float across the room singing, "no ones gonna love you like I do" and I sing along, pulling her in a little closer and stroking her long hair, the end bits a little crusted with dried yogurt from the breakfast we left behind before heading for the more comfortable couch. As I sing along and look into her curious eyes I know that nothing else matters. I am home.
As much as these walls and this space feel like a living member of our family, pulsing along with us as we live our days within them, they are not, not to the extent I often feel they are at least. Leaving them behind may bring tears at the memory of the floors where my babies were born, the walls that witnessed so many firsts and so much love and growth, but as we move forward and look toward a new home in the relatively near future, knowing home will go with us wherever we go, in our embraces, our memories, our love, brings me comfort, for truly so long as we are together we are home.