He feels like green-laden fields bathed in sticky summer. I shower in that joy daily.
I wish time would slow down. Maybe then I’d be so overflowing that I could sustain myself on the mere memory of what this feels like
Seasons
There’s this giddy little evil part of me that says… what if this is it? Like… what if we stop having kids? Like… I could actually be done...
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In the laundry bin, making home next to my socks and underwear, I found a little tube of glossier blush, two square neon magnets, and a spec...
