The kitchen is littered with sticky, wonderful dirty dishes. Like long ago aromas of gravy, salt and family, a mezmerizing smell. chatters of beer,
he wants, as usual, but we gently resist, the conversation turns to the aging,
shrinking cats, fearfully skulking around, wondering ,where to now, do they live here again? We talk of tiny houses, could we, should we?
we measure the youngest, he is 5′ nine, nice. inches above the femmes present.
he is kind, calm, loves chocolate, interested in people, our conversations, our family nuances.
suddenly , we must go, its time for pills, this window quickly closing to an end, we assuage with tea, gleaning a few more minutes together. the passage of time so obvious, but still clinging with memories. wholesome, I don’t want to clean up, move on, I want to remain, we are alive, we are well, we are safe, what else is there really. we say a quiet prayer for the homeless in our town on the way home, it shifts our thinking to more solemn matters. today, we are content. Happy Easter