i have no answers today.

I was sitting on the front porch wrapped in a massive blanket with an umbrella propped against my shoulder and a bottle of bubbles near my feet. And there I sat, happy as can be, when he pulled into the cul-de-sac, parked his car, and began his journey to the steps upon which I was sitting.

We laughed and blew bubbles as the sky leaked raindrops from way up above; we sat there until the stiffness of the cement made our bodies ache, then we allowed ourselves to merely topple backwards and sprawl out awkwardly upon my front porch. We spun the umbrella above our heads and talked about silly things. He would occasionally reach over and tickle me, but I'd squirm away as quickly as possible: I've always been exceptionally ticklish.

Eventually the cold seeped through the blanket and all the way to our bones. So we gathered up our things and proceeded inside and all the way down to the basement to watch a movie. And that's exactly what we did. But he unexpectedly reached his arm around me and pulled my head into his chest. And just like that, I found my heaven in my arms. 

His fingers would comb gently through my hair or trace my ear, and I swore in that moment I could have died happy. How is it that I felt so at home when I was close to him? 

And why is it that I feel so lost now that he's gone?