I daydream about us constantly. About a small house in the middle of nowhere, where the world feels far away and the only things that matter exist inside our walls. A tiny kitchen with warm yellow light. Windows open to quiet fields. Just us.
I imagine Callie stretching in the sunlight by the window, Milo running through the grass outside like he owns the place, and Ron curled up somewhere soft and dramatic like the little king he is. Our little family. Our little universe.
I think about laughing with you until I feel sick, the kind of laughing where breathing feels impossible, and tears roll down my cheeks and my stomach hurts and all I can do is look at you and think, “This is it. This is what happiness feels like.”
I dream about hugging you while I cry. Not because things are always sad, but because sometimes they are. And I want to feel safe enough to fall apart in your arms. I want to kiss your worries away when the world feels heavy. I want to be the place you come to rest.
I imagine us cleaning the kitchen together. Music playing softly. You pretending not to know how to load the dishwasher correctly. Me bumping into you on purpose. Soap bubbles on your hands. Domestic and soft and ours.
Baking together and laughing when you mess up the measurements. (as if thatd ever happen) Flour on the counters. Flour on your face. Me trying to act annoyed but secretly thinking I hope this moment lasts forever.
I picture us sitting side by side playing video games, arguing over controls, celebrating little wins like they’re life changing. Watching movies late at night and falling asleep halfway through, your arm around me.
Going on runs together even when we complain the whole time. Coming back home tired and smiling. Showering off the day. Living in the simplest way possible.
I don’t need luxury. I don’t need noise. I just need you. A small house in the middle of nowhere. A kitchen full of warmth. A life built from quiet love and loud laughter.
I think about this future so much that sometimes it makes me happy cry
while I’m writing it.
Because it feels real.
Because loving you feels like home I haven’t walked into yet.