chestnut shells on the floor…..fondly remembered friends visit
piles of sleeping bags……leftovers from the family sleepover, drifting off listening to this
confetti everywhere……laughter still ringing through the air
upturned laundry baskets……racecars
tiny wires scattered while Mama asks ‘what are these from’……..we made our own transistor radio!
I would like to shout, ‘Clean this mess up. Go play outside. Give me some space!’
It’s frigid outside, sledding and rambling in short bursts.
It won’t last forever.