Journal January Entry 9: Home

Journal January — Day 9

Prompt: Who in your life feels like home, and why?

Home, for me, is my husband.

Not in a poetic, idealized way — though there is poetry in it — but in the most practical, lived-in sense of the word. He is the person I return to, emotionally and physically, without thinking. The place where I soften without effort.

He’s silly in a way that disarms me. Thoughtful in a way that feels constant, not performative. He pays attention. He remembers things. Being with him doesn’t require translation or calibration. I don’t have to adjust myself to be understood.

That’s what makes him feel like home.

With him, there’s an ease that settles into my body the moment we’re together. The kind of comfort that comes from being known both at your best and in your most ordinary, unpolished moments. The version of me in sweatpants at the end of the day. The version of me mid-thought, half-finished sentence. The version of me post meltdown — he’s seen it all.

He holds space for all of it.

Home is laughing at nothing in particular. It’s sharing meals, routines, and quiet evenings without needing them to be memorable to matter. It’s knowing that even on hard days, I’m not alone in carrying them.

What I love most is that being with him feels grounding, not consuming. Supportive, not limiting. Our life together doesn’t pull me away from myself, it anchors me more deeply into who I am.

Home isn’t just where you feel safe. It’s where you feel steady.

And that’s what he is to me.