In the trusty Le Creuset dutch oven and its home on the back burner.
In the wildly overgrown tree we inherited from Josh’s stint at the library.
In the parade of mismatched coffee cups.
In the scattered stacks of mail, New Yorkers, and board books.
In the frequently misplaced items, such as binky, scissors, and corkscrew.
In the makeshift ramps and tunnels that Josh constructs for Gus’s play.
In goat cheese, tamarind crackers, and three kinds of yogurt.
In the homemade pie crusts and peach, rhubarb filling.
In cherished blue items: a retired sweater, a sapphire, velvet high tops.
In the handwritten love notes in uncommon anniversary cards.
In the overstuffed shoeboxes brimming with photos.
In the abandoned compact discs stashed on closet shelves.
In my tattered, childhood blanket that went missing for years.
In my grandmother’s silvery pendant I wore on my wedding day.
In always the same two lullabies Gus knows by heart.
In the return for more kisses even after we’ve said goodbye.