figment0 had me think about where "home" was for me, a while back. It wasn't this apartment. It wasn't templeravenmoon. It wasn't my parents' house back in Alaska. I discovered, digging through my head, that I had last felt completely at home when I was curled up next to Darkside while he played silly Jedi video games. My head was tucked up against him, so the hair on his arm tickled my face. We talked about nothing, he hacked and slashed his way around a big spaceship, and I dangled a green glowstick from my fingers.

I called today, my usual weekend chat. He was busy typing away on something, so we did something much the same on the phone. It had nearly the same effect. Even though his attention was elsewhere, he was taking the time to be present with me, and I could half-feel the half-hug.

15 minutes. Not much in the way of coherent anything; I was still too exhausted from work, and he was preoccupied and busy with something else himself.

But it's these little moments that get me through my week, through my life. I'm hoping that my taking out the time to spend with him and to make sure he's doing all right are making him feel as cared-about as I feel when he takes the time for me. I'd like to say that I'd be absolutely lost without him, but I know I could cope. I have, before. I clearly will, at some point. But he magnifies my joy and diminishes my sorrow. I would not be half as happy. I would not be the same woman.

I like the self I am around him better than I like the self I am the rest of the time, because I like myself better when I'm contented, brilliant, relaxed, and dazzlingly happy. Every now and then he'll talk about himself, and I am given to suspect that he too becomes sweeter and deeper in my presence.

With him, I can be silent. This is a treasure greater than words.