The pot is full of rescued meat and veggies and the bread is rising on the altar and the counter is covered with the wreckage of greens and the garden is blooming and and the baby chickens are peeping and the rooms are full of warm afternoon light and after dinner it will be playtime and I probably should not have had that beer or eaten all those cookies on an empty stomach but I really think it's joy and pleasure and contentment that's making me feel drunk.
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I ate so much bacon and held a newborn baby and made jokes with friends and talked about feelings and put art on the walls and swept the red pine floors in the sunshine and my partner fell asleep next to me and the kiddo, so we tiptoed away and snugged and watched cartoons on the couch and ate snacks and then I made dinner, primarily out of bacon fat from breakfast, and it was so good and the kiddo and I had a knock-knock joke battle while they took a bath and we took some comedic risks that really panned out and there was a fire in the hearth and I watched it and listened to the bitter wind rushing through the Douglas firs outside and we snugged and then I crawled into my huge soft warm bed, and that was just one day.
I sat on the cool wooden floor in the gathering dark, looking out over the backyards of other people's houses and breathing and listening to them tell me all the pictures they were drawing and how much they love me and want to connect with me.
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AuthorBitter Water
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. Archives
June 2019
Categories© Francie Nevill and Every Sweet Thing, 2017.
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