My project this year, for my birthday, was to give other people gifts. (I’m not “good at” gift-giving; I have to work hard at it. And I’m still pretty spotty.) I did. It was fun. And also, what actually happened yesterday was that loved ones did things for me, and allowed me to do small, useful things for them. I am experiencing the idea of ‘gifts’ differently, in the wake of that.

There was sunset, too, and moonrise, and fog, while I drove a long, beloved stretch of US 101 in heart-full silence.

And there was poetry, and tea, and good conversation, and tenderness. And pitch-perfect spanakopita and tzatziki by an open window. And mountains I love, and saturated gold calendulas in blue glass vessels, and hungry hungry little monarch caterpillars.

Also some car trouble, too much heat for this body, a non-optimal change of plans, and a very late arrival home. And it was okay. It is.

Loved, and loving.