The cursor blinks,
like my eyes blink,
as I try to recall
the very specific set
of sentiments, senses, surroundings
that germinated
this collection of words and friends.
Blink,
and fifteen-and-a-half years fly by.
An entire childhood
since we were only
just barely
no longer children ourselves,
just starting to sort the world out.
Spoiler: it's still unsorted,
like my laundry.
Only, my world has shrunk
and my laundry's doubled.
