What was on the wall that day.
The blue light of an old TV before everyone else woke up. Saturday morning. Cereal. The whole world was mine.
My doctor sent me a handwritten note after my dad's funeral.
The smell of new crayons at the start of every school year. Hope, in cardboard.
I'm grateful that I can read this. I'm grateful that you can read it. We're both here.
Putting on a coat from the dryer when the house is cold.
Mockingbird in the magnolia going through his whole repertoire.
Salamander under a stone. Bright orange. The kids gasped.
The dog with the curly ears at the park.
The kid behind me on the bus singing softly to himself.
Grateful for the woman in the hospital cafeteria who said, sit, eat, you can't help him hungry.
The Thanksgiving my brother got home from his deployment. He was so tan. He ate three plates. He fell asleep on the rug.
My mother-in-law calls me her son even though she has her own son.