With New Year’s resolutions still so fresh

and January ready to be juiced,

I don’t know why we got shorted

organic celery hearts again. I don’t know

which bread your mother-in-law meant,

though you swear it’s pumpernickel

with a blue label. But I know how much

getting it right matters to you

and to me, and I know I can’t give everyone

exactly what they had in mind,

but most people exit through the entrance

with more than they expected.

As every parent converting

a shopping cart into a portable playpen

knows, I know every day is a series of

interrupting questions.

I know perseverance was born

in a Trader Joe’s parking lot.

I know that after six straight days

of work, just before sundown,

God made Almond Danish Kringle

then sank into a chair in the break room,

bit into a warm slice, and said,

“Now that’s good.”

I know the woman who pays for her weekly,

nine-dollar bag of organic walnuts

with nickels, dimes, and pennies,

is awfully generous to the bougie

squirrels in her backyard.

I know waiting is a spiritual discipline

for which none of us are grateful

the week before Thanksgiving.

I know being together is a precarious

arrangement, the weight of our wants

stacked on top of each other

like pyramids of glass jars full of pasta sauce.

I know that sometimes we just need

someone else to notice the cracks in our eggs

or to give us their vote of confidence

in what we are planning

to make of our choices,

and we all deserve a little extra care,

like peaches and pears

nestled on a bed of Tuscan kale,

safe from the edges of raspberry boxes.

I know we all have days when we’re

one cupcake short of a birthday party.

Days when we misplace our keys,

our children, our minds.

Days we leave our wallets

and our manners at home.

I know everyone hates to hear

that their go-tos have gone on

to make space for new loves.

I, too, stockpile for the snack apocalypse,

fearing that the objects of my obsession

may become extinct.

I know sometimes the world

feels like the frozen aisle,

and I can read the temperatures of

I’m well, I’m great, I’m fine, and I’m okay.

I know how hard we work

to camouflage our bald spots

and make our shelves look full.

I know most of us forget

what we are here for

until we are about to leave.

And even if you only came in

for the free coffee and company,

before you go, I want to give you

something for the road.

I know a shared laugh or a kind word

can salvage a day headed for the dumpster.

I’ve seen thousands of faces

and I know just as many

ways to say, I see you.