In just a few lines, the speaker admits to a gap in their own memory. They can't say when "you" stopped being a person they ran toward and became a place they belong. The poem doesn't mark a big moment of arrival. Instead, the change seems to have happened quietly, without the speaker noticing.
The phrase "from my escape" suggests the speaker was fleeing something, though the poem never says what. That leaves the reader to fill in the gap. What matters is the contrast: escape is urgent and restless, while home is steady and unremarked. The speaker seems to have moved from one to the other without realizing it.
The mood is soft, uncertain, and tender. There's a hint of surprise, even gratitude, in not remembering, as if feeling safe happened so gently that it never needed a date. The trailing dots at the end leave the thought open, like a sentence the speaker isn't quite ready to finish.