Love is the wildest the best. The gentlest. The mess.
It’s not all blooming light and laughter and
like
those dusty sunsets
Where you’re excited for tomorrow and your heart feels at rest.
It is the quiet cracks and unknown corners of boxes you must unpack
it can be battered and beautiful, breaking open enough to let the light touch
The places that need healed or held
this unruly unfurling, this wild welding:
Love is being held in heavy grace, lifted and set gently in a place
so safe, so carefully created and delicately rooted, that the winds can’t collapse and words can’t erase
This home: this story of each other’s safe place.
Love is not always as we see it but if we try we can free it, in the gentle and the dark, the upending and the hard. lay your path as you embark and endeavor, take hope and give light as you leave and remember
What it felt like to first love the other.
may your story be strong and your life, a song
lit up with love and might, your tiny home full of grace laced quiet and gentle light, hot tea on chilled nights and a peace so big and so wide
It seeps out to the world, so perfect and so right.
