061: blessings

Sometimes I count blessings on the way to work. Number one is almost always the boy––his kisses, his face in the morning light, his cute sleeping position, his love for me. Number two was seagulls—hearing them as soon as I walked outside. It was the faintest, farthest breath of summer, of standing by the sea. Number three was a black goldendoodle, tied to a post outside a café. I held out my hand and she sniffed it, gently. Not quite close enough for me to feel the wet nose. But it was enough. It was more than enough.

060: out the window

Seeing Val walk by while wiping down one of the high tops. Walking by, on the sunny sidewalk in the bitter cold, her eyes hidden behind big galactic sunglasses, her new haircut covered by a knit hat. Wearing a tan suede lambswool-lined coat, her bright yellow handbag slung across her body and bouncing gently by her hip. She saw me through the window, smiled and gave me a wave. I waved back, over the heads of some ladies clustered by the window. They probably thought I was waving at them, initially, and then decided I was off my nut.