Coming Home

Last night I cried. I know, shocking news! DJ was outside with the dogs and I curled up in the bed, feeling very alone, and cried. When he came back in and saw me there (looking quite pathetic, I'm sure) he set down his water glass, crawled into bed next to me, and held me close. I rolled over and sobbed into his chest - soaking his shirt and my pillowcase.
At first, I was mad that he didn't say a word. He didn't ask what was wrong. I felt like he was annoyed by my tears and was just doing his duty as the husband of a crazy lady. But as I cried more, I realized something powerful.
I was home.
Laying there in his arms, crying out my emotions of the day, I'd come home. So I cried because I missed my Waco family and friends so much it hurt inside. I cried because babies were growing up and I wasn't there to watch. I cried because it takes four years to build the friendships I had back in Waco and we'd only been up here for a year. I cried because of a rude comment a random stranger made about my current job. I cried because my husband has to work graduation on Sunday - our one day together as a family. And then I cried because I was home. Because there in my sweet husband's arms was all I needed for that moment. He didn't need to speak. He didn't need to ask me what was wrong. He just needed to let me cry. And somehow, without any words spoken, he told me everything I needed to hear.
"Welcome home."