Here’s what I see. Our house has pink blankets, fresh flowers, a garden with a swingset and a blanket laid out on the grass. There’s lilac and lavender, and we grow strawberries because they’re always sweeter homegrown. Glass doors open from the kitchen to the sound of just one more game. Our dog runs with green feet to the water, droplets on the hardwood. There’s fruit on the island, chocolate muffins in the oven. It’s a Sunday afternoon: early June, almost summer, lazy in the heat. We have time.







