WHAT ARE WE DOING WITH THE SLIPPING SECONDS?
8am:
Prepare the morning mental checklist
before peeling yourself off the bed.
8.30am:
Prepare your iced coffee,
the long-awaited ritual you dream of.
Drop your daughter off at daycare,
counting the hours until she's home again.
12pm:
Prepare a sandwich,
letting a sigh of contentment escape your lips
as you bite into the bread—
a welcome break in the day.
2pm:
Prepare for the doctor's appointment;
routine, scheduled, a blessing
that it isn't catching you by surprise.
6pm:
Prepare dinner while your daughter's laugh
stands playfully in the foreground,
the simmering meal stepping back to offer joy the limelight.
7pm:
Prepare for the nighttime routine—
slowed breaths, lingering cuddles,
the warmth of her body beside your own
as the bedtime story floats to its last page.
10pm:
Prepare tea and dessert,
swapping stories and bad jokes with the love of your life
while the thriller of choice plays on Netflix.
11pm:
Prepare to do it all again the following day,
a comforting cycle for which you are grateful.
Death watches your routine unfold from the window.
It knows the little things are the big things to you.
It knows you are happy,
and yet,
it whispers its unheard wish to the wind
for the thousandth time,
"Please, please—prepare for me too."
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