loved-ones' covid recoveries. back door gifties. a friend's homemade garlic bagels and onion bialies with cream cheese and eggs. mild november days. starlit skies. crescent moons. seeing orion and other constellations out the upstairs bathroom window all hours of the night. roof overhead. fire in the stove. a desk from which to view the garden and write. stovetop espresso with stephen colbert and jimmy kimmel. handsome, loving, fun husband, father, artist, chef. ample space for keeping safe and (mostly) sane in the pandemic. cooking with gas and stereo. roasted, spatchcocked turkey. honey-glazed carrots. an attempt at my mother's stuffing with ground sausage and walnuts. pumpkin pie. gifford's old fashioned vanilla ice cream. bowdoin fields and trails. smellie, the best dog imaginable. extended family. ex-roommates still in the picture. childhood friends and former students who still keep in touch. beloved homies from coast to coast and abroad. new friendships and ones which are decades old. memories of our dear friend-brother-son who spent several thanksgivings with us when he was in college and who lives on deep in our hearts. people fighting for truth and justice. president-elect and his veep, plus other diverse, experienced, measured, respected public servants—ahhhhhh. sweetest, cutest, cuddly son. cloud-strewn skies over sparkling waters. donated strollers. walks at woodward point preserve. clusters of crooked sumac, white pine and naked oak. chilly nights warmed by an open fire. bits of bourbon. memories of my friend woody who used to love our leftovers. eclectic music collection. seizure-free days (sadly not today or yesterday.) sharing fortune with those less fortunate. letters from a death row inmate. perspective.

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