Tickled to be invited here with words that made me blush by the luminous @lilydiamond. Here's a list of reachable things exactly now:
  1. The smell of sea salt and fog and old growth tree moss, as sensed vicariously through a calmly grieving/liberated friend on the coast two hours away
  2. Absolute surety that I do not need to leave the house again until dusk, because I am a born Vermonter and general cloud lover who has no idea what to do in a Portland heat wave except daydream about swimming holes
  3. The pulsating secret at hand
  4. The instant gratification of sucking down 24 ounces of an iced coconut rooibos chai with coco milk, honey, and chewy bobas
  5. Near-acceptance that today I am allowed to just sit in the dark and write
  6. Total acceptance that what's going to happen before any more writing is another episode of Chef's Table, likely the one about that Swedish guy since that appears to be the coldest episode
  7. Family, through different degrees of veils and allowances
  8. Marrow-deep love for the friends who are THERE even when years and continents go by and not that much is necessarily said
  9. The crow in a tree I can't see
  10. The pre-thunderstorm feeling of Vermont in this particular season, 3000 miles away. Fireflies. Inner compass to home.