My little brother tells me
he doesn’t understand romance stories
because it feels like something is missing.
He says, it feels fake.
He asks, what does love really look like?
I tell him I am not the best person to answer,
but I will try.
I tell him I want someone who
turns the porch light on for me when it’s dark.
Someone who
brings home supper on the long days.
Someone whose
socks I don’t mind washing over and over.
Someone who
wants to go for walks with me.
Someone who
will do the dishes with me
for the rest of our lives.
My little brother understands about
doing the dishes.
I tell him the extraordinary is important
but I need the everyday ordinary
or it’s a firework, burning out.
I do not know more than this.
I know I want someone to do the dishes
with me
forever.
I appreciated this, Annie.