My Peace

My Peace

The latest nights are the greatest. There's something about being awake and alive while the rest of the world slumbers that is simply, indescribably serene. Driving with your heart more in the passenger seats than behind the steering wheel, headlights staring into a fog thicker than that of the future; collapsing into a foreign but friendly bed; being able to see the love you give people reflected in their eyes and smiles back at you; all of this tucked neatly under the heap of last night's outfit, which sits in a messy pile on your floor, stained by happy memories. I can't claim to know what true peace is, but I wouldn't regret betting that it's similar to the feeling of lounging in your living room at 4am, surrounded by people that you'd do anything for, letting conversation roll out of your mouth like a person rolling out of a pleasant dream. When an entire weekend happens between two weary blinks, I feel content. When I don't feel farther away from the people I love in separate cities than I do in separate rooms, I feel happy. When my home becomes a group of friends under the same roof and not just the roof itself, I feel whole.
The latest nights are the greatest, and I think I know what my peace is. It's the absence of time, the presence of love, and the willingness to be happy.