Days.

I look at things, see them clearly. I process them, enjoy them, file them away. Or so I think. Because when I look back at this time, details often blur. 

What's the date? When did we talk about that? When did he cry that way? What's the plan? Did I make that call, send that email, pay that bill yet? Did he poop last night, or was it the morning? Or the night before?

It all seems very mundane, and it's all very lovely.