I’m utterly exhausted, mentally and physically, as I make the drive home from the meeting with my management team. We just finalized all of the details for my upcoming album release, so my brain is officially fried. I just had so many dates, arrangements, shoots, appearances, and whatever the hell else they’ll have me doing, thrown at me in a very long meeting. I’m so excited to just go home and pass out on the couch.

With you.

God, I’ve missed you today. Which, sounds insanely codependent since I quite literally saw you this morning when I left, but it still stands. I’m guessing it’s because of the ramp up on this album release. The anxieties and obligations building up. Realizing that there will be a huge chunk of time, time that’s approaching fast, where I’ll be extremely busy. Flying off to different countries and cities, long stays for press junkets, and eventually a tour. Sure, you’ll come along to some, but I can’t expect you to be there for everything. We’ve been together for 5 years, married for 1, so you understand. Sometimes, the clinginess starts early.

As I pull up into our driveway, I can already tell that something’s off. Not anything like a break in or eerie energy in the air, but just the appearance of our house. There’s fake spiderwebs covering our porch, pumpkins all along the lawn, an orange wreath on our door, and a giant blow-up ghost sitting happily in our lawn.

I let out a sigh. It’s not a disappointed or angry sigh, more so one of disbelief and astonishment. It’s the beginning of October, quite early to have the whole house decked out. But I shouldn’t have expected any less from you.

Bounding out of my car and up to the door, I can practically smell the fall-scented candles from out here. The ones you only break out when the first orange leaf falls. As the front door creaks open, I step into an autumn wonderland.

Somehow, the inside is more decorated than the outside. All of the pillows on the couch have been replaced with fall themed ones, matching the new blankets. There’s pumpkin decor everywhere, and even some hanging orange leaves. Plastic skeletons, smiling ghosts, black cat artwork; I try to not think of where you were hiding this—or, hell, how much you spent on all of this.

And there you are, in the thick of it, at the top of stairs as you wrap fake leaf vines around the banisters, humming along to the halloween playlist you’ve curated. My heart warms at the sight, almost to the same temperature it is in this room with all of these potent candles lit. This is not how I expected to spend my night, but there’s no doubt you’ll wrangle me into decorating with you.

“My love,” I clear my throat, getting your attention, “what are you doing? It looks like Halloweentown threw up in here. And, please, put out some of these candles,” I blow one out on the entryway table, “you’re going to burn the house down.”