Where have you been?
I do not know.
I do not know?
Well, I know, but I’m not sure.
(This is turning into a Pink Floyd song in a hurry.)
I’ve been folding laundry. Yes, that.
Discovering that if a small child pushes the tiny brown button on his Pillow Pets Dream Lites enough times in a row it will flash maniacally and turn bedtime into a psychedelic clown show.
Beer. And that.
Considering the question: Who am I? How did I find myself having deep conversations based on the statement (delivered in a deadpan voice as I was sitting on the toilet):
“Mama, pasta can come out of my nose.”
Writing one poem in the last 6 months that felt like a miracle and an ending and a beginning as all poems do.
Wishing. Always wishing which is so silly because look at all of this: the dog curled up on the lap, the boy holding a dog-eared book, the girl going down the slide backwards, the other boy yanking at his underwear, the new job, the rain, the eternal missing, and always (thank goodness) always laughter.