Content

I hear the shower running, whistling accompanies the water sounds.

I see the sun reflecting off the couch pillows onto the ceiling.

I taste watery iced coffee with too much sugar.

I feel the texture of the worn carpet beneath my feet.

I smell the scent of decaying leaves and fall afternoons.

The boys are curled up in the sun somewhere. I’m seated on the love seat sharing my space with four different knitting projects, five others are within arms reach. The Boyfriend wanders about upstairs shaving his beard, reading, asking the magic box questions and the floor squeaks under his feet.

This is a typical Sunday afternoon for us.

I am content.