Grateful for August, its color of amber, and feeling of heat and straw.

Grateful for breathlessly walking with friends on concrete hotter than comets’ tails.

Grateful for journals, fresh coffee, and out-of-tune pianos.

Grateful for hands that don’t hurt anymore.

Grateful for the focus, the rest, and Cole Hocker crossing the finish line.

Grateful for strawberries dropped in lemonade and iris bulbs found in a plastic bag on side of the road.

Grateful for fresh herbs from my neighbor to dress up my potatoes.

Grateful to the greeter at the Y who knows my name, and the pool, the sauna, and steam room filled with eucalyptus oil.

Grateful to the monstera propagated all over the house.

Grateful for the hurt memory shrinking and the healing process growing.

Grateful for the nascent self emerging.

Grateful for this season that tells me, I still have time.