The Early Bird

You live in my heart… I just don’t go in that room much anymore. It’s like a basement or an attic. A place to store trinkets and things from your past you just can’t quite let go. Somethimes I visit these places. Rummage through the piles that have accumulated and wonder if I will ever hang them in the parlor where people can see them and admire.

Every once and a while, someone new comes along inquiring about the rooms in your house and things you have owned. Most times, you don’t take them to the attics or basements. Maybe not even the high closet shelves.

All this is to say, love is a whole home, not just a singular room. It is not somewhere you want to burglarize. Stealing moments from a place you will never live. Things you don’t own, things that belong to someone else. You steal for the adrenaline rush only for it to dissipate and gather in an addiction. This is not a life I want to lead.

Love is being invited into someone’s home. Into their lives and sometimes into rooms they can’t even visit alone. Places your afraid demons are still lurking from failed exorcisms. I am not a pirate and I am certainly not a thief. Every endeavor should simultaneously be an invitation. It should feel natural like I am meant to be there. I no longer want to play the wolf accessing weak infrastructures and waiting for the opportunity to call wind in my chest to send you flying back in fear.

No. I would like to be an honored guest. Someone you enjoy having around. Someone who is truly “welcome anytime”. Someone who can actually “make themselves at home”.