We are home, finally, after too many years away and it feels like we never left, and like all of that was just a dream, apart from the bits with Tiger. But the bits with Tiger can be moved here, in our dreams.
And she loves it here. She loves the museum and the park and the trees in our backyard and ALL of the trees on the walk into the city, and the cars too, and the buildings and birds and CHAIRS AND STUFF*
And today I took her to the booky nook, one of my favourite places in the world, where a few years back I made a little club called the Fullers Ferrets, and I never imagined that one day my own small, sweet love would be part of it.
We are home. And it feels like home in a way that the other place never did. And sure the backyard is full of rubbish; the front room is full of boxes and the cat is full of urges to wake all of us up at ridiculous hours of the night, but none of it seems to matter.
I’ve always thought the meaning of life was finding home. We have it now, and it’s bliss.
* Actual Tiger Quote, when asked what she was looking at, at the museum.