A Transpiring Between Two Lovers, Part IV

4. Welcome Home
Home is something that cannot be quite described. The definition is highly contingent upon the person's perspective of what home means and the image it illicit. But ultimately, it is the one place that every person desires to go. When things are good, when things are bad, home is home. Regardless of what life was like, there is one thing irrevocably true about home: it changes us. 

My love, do you remember that one crisp December night, when we had that argument? The one that I thought for sure that we would never speak again, never love each other again, and never be with each other from that moment forward? Yes, that one. We were arguing outside my doorstep and you spoke your final piece and leaped inside and slammed the door, right in your face, with a loud smack, reverberating loudly and its visceral reminder of words being unspoken resonating deeply beyond the few inches we stood. I run upstairs and clutched my pillow, heart wrenching sobs escaping my chest and hot tears trickling down my cheeks as I buried my head in my pillow, with the hopes that my broken heart would somehow be remedied with the comfort of soft cotton. Minutes passed by, transpiring into hours. And with my heart broken, I was more hurt and upset at the prospect that I would never speak to you again, I would hear you laugh again after fumbling over a jumbled sentence or something silly, and I would never see you smile again at me. I hated that even more than whatever it was we were arguing about; that wasn't as important as much as I liked you. Or loved you, even without me knowing what it was I feeling. I jumped out my bed, flung a thin jacket on, and biked to your dorm building. While setting my bike beside the brick wall, I caught a glimpse of your face. I had never seen you appearing so grim, so defeated, so sad, as if you lost the most important thing. Your brow was furrowed, your eyes drooped, and your frown was deep. You've never looked sadder. I realized then that I never wanted to see you like that again, so utterly dejected. I approached slowly and when you heard the crumpling snow, you looked up and our eye contact was met with a sense of urgency and homecoming. We ran towards each other and wrapped my arms around you. I never wanted to leave your arms again, to depart from your embrace. You placed your hands on my face and whispered only a few words that still remain embedded in my memory. "Let's never depart from each other again." You hugged me once more, your arms tighter against my waist and your head resting on my shoulders. I felt like I was returning home. I was being welcomed home. 

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