Echoes: Home—Sept 2
When you heard me call your name, I wasn’t whispering just letters— I was carving a shelter out of air, a place I made for us, a place called home. H— is for the heartbeat that never gave up on us, for the hands that held the broken pieces, for the hope that hums like a hymn underneath every silence. O— is for the open door, the one that never locked you out, the circle of arms that make a whole even when the world is shattered glass. It is the oxygen of belonging, the breath we share when we say: “You are safe here.” M— is for me, not in selfishness, but in the promise: I bring all of myself so you can rest in the truth that you don’t walk alone. It is the mirror of us, me becoming we, me becoming more. E— is for eternity, for the endless way love lingers, like the echo of your name still alive in my chest. It is for everything I couldn’t say until now, and for the ever after th...