how you hang up the laundry while I adapt scripts,
Writing while you draw out cross-poles and design lesson plans,
Folding laundry while you play with your lego.
Long bus rides to random spots on the map. Plugged in, blocked out from the world but still tuned to the other.
Notes scrawled and left, collections of polaroids and ticket stubs to places we've been.
I don't know how we got here, but it's nice.
Where you're there to hold my hand through the screaming self-doubt, and where I give you enough reason to want.
Where we both look back at what we've had with others before and try to figure how it is that all this can be new.
Quiet, over dinner. the taking out of boxes, while lying on random grass patches.
Pizzas that find themselves whole instead of missing a piece.
And oh,
the sound of your smile on a rainy afternoon as you stare out at the road.
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