Come rain on my parade

my brother slept over, so we went to the place that already knows our order. we grew up in the same house and somehow lived in different ones, and still... sunday morning, same table.

later, three boys and me. my cousin at his shop, my boyfriend beside me, my brother eating what i couldn't finish. they tease me the way boys do when they love you. i used to think love was quieter than this.

at home, my boyfriend in one room, me in another. the house holds both of us without asking us to be the same. i'm learning that closeness isn't proximity. it's the going and the coming back.

in the evening, a wedding. my mother's side of the family, the ones who hugged me like no time had passed. different faiths under one roof and no one ever made it a problem. love, here, has never asked anyone to be smaller.