The babies are still kicking and the strollers are still charging iPhones and I am still excelling at work avoidance and questioning how much I really value responsibility; I am still wishing I was lying in the crook of your arm and your chest, nestled into your scent, seeped in with sun on some roof or patch of green grass, and I'm hoping we can recreate the scene with imagined sunlight and crumpled sheet green grass tonight in my bed in Gowanus. This is all to say that this weekend has been wonderful but I miss doing nothing at all with you and going nowhere and I hope that we can do that very soon.
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