When Calvin looks me in the eyes and smiles. Shumai burgers. A strong body. Loyal friends. Zappa plays Zappa. Sweet corn. Restful nights. My nephew's jokes. Walking with Calvin holding hands. Thunderstorms. Iced lattes. Memories of my dad. Kids who weed for me. Neighbors (mostly). New growth. Charity. Haddock sandwich with cheese and tomato. Bird songs. The look and smell of dark mulch. Immigrants. The west. Compassion. Sea salt and vinegar potato chips, right? Clean teeth. Dogs, especially Rudy. Calvin’s giggles. A good poem. Watching Calvin sleep. High school reunions—seriously. My husband. Writing. Grilled lamb chops. Broadminded, unselfish folk. Maine. Long walks on the beach. Honesty. The smell of basil. Our universe. Homemade nachos and a movie. Soft grass. Thoughts of Calvin seizure and drug free. A good nurse. My mom’s laugh. Helping others. Admitting wrong. Walking on paths lined with blueberries and eating them. Rivers. Phone calls from old friends. Peonies, tulips, lilies and flox. The F-bomb. Foreign films. Morning strolls in the garden with my coffee. Water skiing. Narrow cobbled streets lined with old brick buildings. Mediterranean food. My father-in-law's wine. Sweet dreams. Calvin's kisses.
|photo by Michael kolster|