Convinced that Kitchari (kich-uh-ree) is the answer, considering how tough it’s been to find the mung beans. The best things are the hardest to find.
Trash goes out on Tuesdays. The blinds open everyday at 7:33 am for the satiated mutt on the futon. Girlie wimpers for her blind boyfriend, just kitty corner.
A bathtub gratitude practice where you thank your legs for the miles and arms for the embraces. Because who knows?
A daily check-in, sometimes multiple times a day, with 3 witches I know. Like AA, but more cosmic and full of recipes.
What I thought was Clematis was actually Wisteria. Corrected by my small neighbor, the planter. We didn’t know if it would, but it did. Of course it did, in August 2022!
What a dream! To know the bends of the river better than the names of the roads.
The best sound: light snow settling on a window sill. The best sight: someone finding their stomping ground, their tribe.
Death on the kitchen counter most mornings now. Mice are turning inward, but without tenacity.
A refusal to believe as the light goes out, life goes out.
I visit Baby Lois. Clean her grave. Let the mutt sniff her worn corners. She seems like a June Gemini, most likely cuspy. It’s unclear. Had she lived we would have shared a nightly G + T on the porch, toasting the coming New Year.
A Homegoing 