falling asleep instantly
dripping bathing suits on the clothesline
a pile of green Fla-Vor-Ices in the freezer
because they’re the least favorite
standing shoulder to shoulder washing dishes
sandy, bare feet in the grocery store
swinging legs off the dock at night
the one left-on light from a tied boat
illuminating the silver ripples our feet make in the bay
a pile of long overdue half-read library books
on the wooden coffee table
flipping through the same old photo albums
to point out the marks of time
the seemingly permanent rainbow
from sun and spray
hovering on the outside shower floor
salty, damp hair in loose braids
flannel pajama shorts against blue sheets
and waking up excited about the comforting
routine of the day to come