i don’t think i want “equity in the form of vesting options and a clear path to promotion”, i want a well-organized kitchen with open cabinets, so when the sunlight pours in through the large bifold window over the sink, it shatters into millions of prismatic shards on every glass

i want to let in the early spring morning sun & its crisp breeze chaperone to glance across neatly stacked white ceramic plates and mugs, like a kind, curious older couple at a gallery opening, and i want to watch a curious parcel of mule deer flirt between the forest and nearby clearing

if by “open to new opportunities”, you mean the infinite number of warm new days and quiet frontiers hiding in every golden plain and every conversational creek in the rocky mountain west... if you mean never again choosing same-day shipping or nervous meetings or unkind car horns, then yes,

i don’t mind if after all of this, my life amounts to anything by the yardstick of capital; if i don’t quite make it into the photo finish of the rat race. i think if at the end of this, all i’ve done is opened the door for strangers and lost count of sunrises, that’d be okay.