the kitchen floor is swept. my fiancé is washing the dishes. there are daffodils in a small blue and white vase on the table. a record spins a song from childhood dances. water boils in the electric kettle. the chocolate chip cookies just came out of the oven. I ask the age-old question “what kind of tea do you want?” our phones lie forgotten on the counter. the clutter is mostly manageable. the tea steeps. I turn the record over. our cat wanders by, meowing at me to play. a note is taped to our kitchen wall that reads records to buy, listing Arlo Parks, John Coltrane, Chopin, and Lianne La Havas. how did I get so lucky? how am I alive in this moment? oh! to be alive on a simple night.
Siena Rose 