we keep the windows open, keep fresh flowers on the windowsill, keep a stack of books by the bed. there is music. there are boxes of old photos. there are skirts that need hemming. there are coffee beans in a jar on the counter in the kitchen. he leaves t-shirts folded on top of the blanket my great-grandmother knit -- and i love that he does, love the juxtaposition of wool and cotton, old and new, him and me.