There are people in our lives who provide more than what can be seen. They do not just feed us, clothe us, or keep the lights on, they shape the way we understand safety, love, and belonging. This poem was written from a place of deep gratitude for the kind of love that does not announce itself, but shows up every day anyway. This poem belongs to the beginning of this thread because it represents home, the place where the porch light was always left on.

This captures the quiet middle, the space between what hurt and what healed, where nothing dramatic happens, but everything slowly changes. Like a porch light left on through the night, healing does not rush. It stays.

Some people enter your life and immediately feel familiar. Their presence brings ease, warmth, and a sense of safety that does not require explanation. This poem was written for my sister, but it is also about the kind of love that exists without conditions, expectations, or fear.