july 20, 2025

The little ones inhabit the space more fully than we. He bounces on the slight edge of the window sill. The other seeks out the smallest cracks in the floor with eager fingers. They know the way each piece of furniture tastes, the squeak of the stairs under my feet, the dusty corner of my closet with all the shoes I never wear anymore.

There is sand everywhere, between brief moments when there isn’t.

I stand in the kitchen and pluck the mint, the basil, the parsley.

Later I lay in bed realizing how I knocked — just barely, just gently, almost without even any sound at all— and how the door was oh-so-widely opened.