I categorize favorite posts on Instagram into labeled folders in case I want to visit them later
In the name of relevance, I text you first. Or is it hope, love. I already know what it is. I have the need to remind others of my existence, or I may fade into oblivion. My mother and I over-bake things. We are unable to let go. We hold until it sours. Did her mother keep too? My daughter takes photos of everything. She never wants to forget. I worry about being forgotten, not being met where I am. Where I am is apart from you. I wait for the skillet to warm before adding the pancake batter. I walk away to tend to the dishes. The blueberries burn.