What was on the wall that day.
A bee on my finger. He rested. He flew on.
A crow tried to share its breakfast with me today. I declined politely.
All green lights from my house to the highway. The universe was rooting for me.
Finding the song I forgot existed on a playlist.
The man at the deli puts the extra pickle in even though I don't ask. I see him do it. He sees me see.
The Fourth of July in our small town. The whole street pulled out lawn chairs. The fireworks were over the high school.
My partner did the dishes even though it was my turn. I had a bad day.
The receptionist at the doctor's office let me cry without rushing me through the form.
The first wild strawberry of the season. Tiny. Sweet. Whole hillside red later.
My dad wears the bracelet my daughter made for him to his country club.
My phone has a flashlight. I am almost embarrassed by how often this saves me.
Grateful that I made it to fifty. Some of my friends didn't.