It feels good to move back home after two years.
It was the last place I saw him alive, the last place I kissed him goodbye, and the last place I would hear him say, “I love you, Baby—see ya tonight.”
He died that day of a heart attack shortly after arriving at work.
Tonight the fireflies came out for the first time this summer.
As I planted flowers, a grandpa and his granddaughter walked by on their way to fish at the lake.
I guess life goes on with or without us.
Sometimes, when you are reminded of your past happiness by someone else's happiness, their happiness becomes yours.
And you hope that this beautiful moment of their lives can last as long as possible, as if you are living it yourself.
I think that's the true face of love.
That's how we feel it.
It’s good to be home.