nap in the sun on the green couch with my child. rest heads together. love his calm, weight and warmth. hold him in the wake of his seizure, arms around his waist under a comfortable cover. get extra sleep if possible. take in blueberries one by one, noting the tart ones from the sweet. facetime with friends at cocktail hour. build a fire in the wood stove. watch its blue and yellow flames as they roll. light a few candles. love them. drink a glass of wine slowly. take long walks with smellie in the woods. fascinate over the strange state of things. love those willing to help. remain calm, yet vigilant. hope and expect the same from others. know that some things are out of our control. care about neighbors. resist the impulse to hoard. try new recipes. focus on music. contribute to local establishments and hunger banks. study a familiar photograph and its beauty as if for the first time. regard the outdoors—watch limbs quiver, see leaves unfold in the sun, note the plumping-up of buds, look up and dream on blue sky and passing clouds. remember to forgive. love the morning frost glimmering on a landscape absent of snow. love the crunch of it underfoot. delight in spring coming. listen intently to a robin's chirp. find the zen of things—washing hands, wiping door knobs, washing apples, folding linens, mopping floors. study loved ones' faces. embrace their changes. hunker down when it's cold. smile at strangers. empathize with those most fragile and afraid. embrace loved ones as if there is no tomorrow.