The hurried worries of the day,
and the anxieties of work,
are properly stored in their place,
not after passing our threshold,
or even the dropping of bags,
but on the greeting you give
as I see your face,
the soft look of understanding,
as you pull me in and wrap me up.
Later, we lie together
under the blanket,
and I am pulled in again,
this time cradled,
arms that encircle,
as you gently kiss my hair,
I feel you sigh in relief,
for the weights we carried melt away,
no longer Atlas,
but safe and tucked in,
everything slots into place,
as they ought to be.
Rachael Varca is a pre-licensed therapist and writer of more than fifteen years experience. She writes at The Practical Therapist and Inking Out Loud, a collection of essays, poems, and home of the serialized novel, Heart of Stone.