Today.

"Yes," I said. "There are things that I miss.
"I miss when the hardest decision I had to make was for myself. I miss when we argued about our favorite colors and who had to unload the dishwasher.I miss that time that was long ago. So long ago that it only seems to be a dream.
"That is what I miss."
After I had said these things without stammering, I sat.
I didn't want to make the walk back home and so I sat against a cedar-brick wall in the parking lot. Th heat of the day was fading as time passed. After 20 minutes, I ran out of water. So, I stood up, picked up my empty water bottle.
"Thanks for talking, God." I added with a sigh.
Slowly walking home in running shoes, I felt very alone. Only 365 days before, this place was home. But once I moved to the city and felt what it was like to be loved fully and known fully, this place was just another place. That's all there is these days. Just places.
Home is not here, where I sit on the couch.
Home is not there, where some of my dearest friends live a few doors down.
Home is wherever He is.
Even if it's leaning against a cedar-brick wall the parking lot.