malkhut shebnetzach
I tell her that I don’t feel I’ve earned a foot rub. What would you have to do to earn a foot rub? she says, rubbing my feet.
Their neighbor bordered two gardens with bricks found under the soil where the building had been. The second pothos given us by our friend prepares a new leaf.
I enter the kitchen to find the dishes that I had suggested maybe if I did them that would make me a human worthy of a foot rub already done.
The parsley and rosemary get their plastic pots today, and I run late to a stoop breakfast, later move seedlings from porch to porch to follow the sun.
I realize that I finally have forgotten to remember that driving to get somewhere quicker is an option. I sense that this forgetting is another kind of remembering.
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