lovable son. stovetop espresso with warm milk. time by myself. a wonderful husband who totally gets me. jammy eggs on weekends. good nights' sleep. seizure-free days. mild weather. justice. white birch overlooking a green lagoon. cooking with fire. smellie, our most beloved dog, and the levity she brings us. maine, for the most part. the ability, time and place to run. feeling ever-so-slightly lighter. walking the college trails. laughing uncontrollably (sometimes at my own jokes.) steely dan. blonde redhead. david byrne. school days. teachers, ed techs, bus drivers. gifted administrators. sunlit leaves yellow as daffodils. cozy old home despite cracking plaster and creaky floors. wood fires in the stove. ambient light, mood light, candlelight and dimmers. homemade pizza. cut flowers in glass vases. hand-me-downs. quiet drives on back roads. taking in the landscape through senses and lens. making ice cream cakes with cookie crusts in a dozen tasty flavors (come try some.) friends made from strangers. walks on pennellville road. clean sheets. long hot showers. tangerine sunsets. moving films and funny movies. crusty frost on a grassy field. ghostly mists hanging out. bourbon on the rocks (within reason.) michael's mashers. bear hugs. dry firewood. witticisms. this particular community. being able to write and draw. peanut butter and raspberry jam sandwiches. the smell of sautéed onions and garlic in olive oil. ten-buck chuck taylors in assorted colors. deep conversations. buttermilk-brined spatchcocked turkey. honey-glazed, sherry carrots. relative health. meeting michael's students. thanksgiving gatherings. pumpkin and pecan pie. finnegan and his family. friends who check in with me through the grieving. talking long distance. covid rapid tests and vaccines. côtes du rhône. sunlight glinting off of wavy windows. a gifted jar of homespun applesauce and a bag of fresh mussels delivered to our door. seussian-looking trees. kind strangers. trusted friendships. relatives. devoted readers. love. music. blue jeans.