#057: Gratitude list

To god, the universe, or both.

Thank you for my dogs.

Thank you for my apartment, my safe haven.

Thank you for wine (cunning, magical, powerful).

Thank you for my sister, who reminds me that I am never going to be alone in this world.

And for my mom, dad and brother.

Thank you for nice perfumes. They help me choose how I want to feel for the day. Yesterday, I felt like being saucy. Today, I want to feel grounded.

Thank you for my favorite pair of jeans that make my butt look good.

Thank you for New Mexico, a place with surreal forces that I won’t ever be able to quantify into words.

Thank you for magnolia leaves in the winter and dahlias in the summer.

Thank you for my job. Loving it the way I do and working on my own terms makes me feel like I won the lottery.

Thank you for my community.

Thank you for Korean cicadas in the summertime; their sound brings me back to my sweet, hazy childhood.

Thank you for the smell of hot trash in the New York summertime. It’s fucking gross but always reminds me that no matter what happens in this world, New York summers will always smell like that.

Thank you for female friendships.

Thank you for my unabashed interest in beauty, glamor and material. It keeps me ambitious when I get too soft.

Thank you for FaceTime.

Thank you for performative waiters and rude coffee shop baristas. They remind me to be gentler to the world because we are all just trying our best.

Thank you for Angostura bitters and soda water and big ice cubes.

Thank you for hot black coffee in the morning.

Thank you for heartbreak—it reminds me that my heart is still working; that I am capable of loving deep, and big.

Thank you for the moon; its power is still baffling to me.

Thank you for Mazzy Star.

Thank you for this version of myself that I am in equal parts proud of and eager to keep cultivating.

How lucky am I.

No. 44, 1955 by Mark Rothko