We will always be home.

It’s morning and we walk out the backdoor of the apartment. The Mazda awaits its journey into the city. She sits, blanketed with oranges and yellows that fell from the maple above. We drive, in awe of the city around us. Auto routes bustle. Parking lots packed. Signs with unknown cautions. Almost a rip in our map.

The boxes are gone as well as the happenings of our first month of marriage; the view in Toronto, the beaches of Mexico, the goodbyes in Winnipeg, the snowstorms of Ontario, the hospitality of Ottawa, the wonder of Montreal, the comfort of #4 Maple.

We are home. Actually, we have always been home, but now we have walls surrounding an area that is ours. A place to learn, a place to grow, a place to meet up after the hustle of the day is over and our real day begins. Over time the apartment number will change, the city lights will change, the type of currency will change - but we will always be home.

Here is to day thirty-one.