The First Day I Felt Safe

This is the sixth poem in the All the Ways I Love You series—one poem a day as we count down to my husband’s birthday. Today’s is for the family I found through you, the one that wrapped me in warmth, laughter, and love I didn’t know could exist.

I was shaking.
Not from cold,
but from the old fear that sits in the bones—
the kind you inherit when family means
walking on glass
and pretending it’s carpet.

You stayed beside me
that whole first day.
Through the hellos,
through the names I tried to hold onto,
through the nerves clawing up my spine.
You didn’t leave my side—
not when I met my brother-in-law,
sweet and zonked on painkillers,
his face puffy from wisdom teeth extraction,
offering comic relief
at just the right time.

And then—
your sister.
Radiant and real,
and somehow living up to the pedestal
I had built for her in my mind.
We decorated the Christmas tree,
and I tried too hard to be perfect.
Said something awkward.
Stupid, maybe.
The kind of thing that used to cost me everything.

But it didn’t here.
It passed.
It was forgotten.

Your sister looked at me and said,
“There are no strings here.”
And I believed her.
Because it was true.

There never were.

Your mum—
not mom—
welcomed me in a way that made me ache.
So kind.
So funny.
So happy to be the centre of the joke
if it meant we were all laughing.
Every Wednesday,
she brought us together with food—
your favourite,
sticky date pudding,
warm and sweet and full of care.

And I watched you all—
siblings hugging,
sons embracing fathers,
tears shed without punishment,
words spoken without fear.

A family
where love didn’t have to be earned,
where affection didn’t come
with conditions or control.

I didn’t know how to be around children.
Not really.
I had only seen them used as currency,
leverage in a war I never agreed to fight.
But here,
they were just kids.
No strings.
No poison in their laughter.
No trapdoors in their joy.

Here,
family wasn’t theatre.
It was real.
Messy.
Loud.
Loving.

And suddenly,
mine.

I didn’t know it could feel like this.
But now I do.
Now I have it.
And I am so,
so grateful.