Domestic Bliss
The windows cast our living room carpet in large puddles of tangerine sunlight. On my way to the espresso machine, I snatched the remote and turned on the tv to some BBC travel show about fishing in Türkiye. I'd really like to go fishing soon. Two shots of espresso and a bagel with goat cheese and prosciutto for breakfast. I changed channels just in time to see Kimi Antonelli win the Belgian Grand Prix; I really like this Mercedes duo, it's a shame about George Russell going out early. You left Thursday morning for Missouri and said you'd be home today at 12:00, but lost time for the usual reasons. So much of our culture is obsessed with eternal youth. They want to make city streets into an expanse of playgrounds to feed the millennial appetite for nostalgia. Anything to spend time outside their overpriced apartments. I can't relate. Our apartment is everything I've ever wanted. The chores and boring TV on our couch, surrounded by art and reminders of the time we spend together. If granted the power of God for even a second, I would turn this moment into eternity and swim in these puddles of sunlight forever.