Capture the Flag

When I was a kid, we used to play games in the suburban cul-de-sac I grew up in--every child on the block would come out after dinner and we would collectively decide whether tonight's game was Capture the Flag, Kick the Can, or just a simple game of tag.  Even as the hot summer sun was setting in the red July sky and our moms were hollering at us to finally come in, we would pursue each other without relent.

Years later, as adults, we still play these games--albeit in a "grown-up" format and with far more serious consequences.

These days, I find myself talking with my friends about a game of Capture the Heart.  In this version, the rules require us to hide our emotions away and leave tidbits and clues to only the truly discerning among us as to the whereabouts of the special prize.  As Julie, Angela, and I explored this topic over cheap beer in a sticky bar tonight, I found myself wondering why one person understands our vague language of love while others completely misunderstand the translation.

What is it about one particular person that makes our hearts race?  That sets our souls on fire and sends the stars careening?  How can one kiss--that brief contact of our mouths--turn the world upside down when it's with the right person?  Do our hearts instinctively know that the heart beating on the other side of that chest wall is the one that was meant to be? 

Though the trials be fiery and the road be twisted, I have found the one whom my soul loves.  To be sure, he has broken my heart more times than I dare recall.  But on a beach in southern California two short years ago, he won me over in a daring and audacious game of Capture the Flag Heart.  As the salty sea air whipped around us and the bright yellow sun turned to pink in the evening sky, he kissed me on a Huntington Beach pier, stealing a bit of my breath and all of my heart.  In a game that is sometimes reckless and always adventurous, he took the prize fair and square under all applicable rules of love and war.

In all of the dizzying confusion that has ensued, I do know this: that when I look into his eyes and see the very reflection of my soul, I am with the right person.  When I feel his heart speed up to match the pace of mine, when I hear his breath slow to meet mine, when I taste the sweetness of love in his kiss...I am with the right person.  All else falls away: the hills and the valleys level out to become a plateau, grace envelopes me, and hope becomes more than a whispered prayer.

Tonight, in a fervent sigh under his breath, I heard these sweet and everlasting words:

Wherever you are is always going to be my home.