On Neatening-After They're Asleep

When I see icy sidewalks outside, I dread scraping the car but I want to remember is that shimmery-icy night on Bartlett St. when Geoff proposed.

When I see wet boots in the front hall I think of what we paid to have the floors redone but I want to remember how much the kids trusted me and came caroling with me for the first time tonight.

When I wipe down the kitchen, I clench my teeth at wasted food when I want to remember how dextrously the baby used her spoon at dinner.

When I see the double-layer of coats pooled on the closet floor, I need to remember it's because they can't reach the hangers yet.

How ephemeral life is, may I live in this moment.