What was on the wall that day.
Stretching in the sun on the kitchen floor.
The way the school bus smelled on a rainy morning. Wet wool and pencils.
A long phone call with someone I love.
My uncle still calls me by my childhood nickname.
A bee on my finger. He rested. He flew on.
The exact taste of the cherry slushies at the snack bar of the public pool.
Grateful that the trees on my block were planted by people who never met me.
Slipping into bed in clean sheets.
My partner texts me when she sees a cardinal. I love cardinals. She doesn't have to.
My grandfather, ninety-one, met my newborn daughter. He cried. He sang to her.
The volunteers at the shelter cleaned the kennels and sang while they did it. I'm grateful for that kind of work.
My friend texts me good morning every day. I never have to wonder if she's mad.