1. Nora dressed as an angel in her Christmas gift to me, frame of popsicle sticks around her gentle gaze on baby Jesus in the manger, a star above: "You can use it as a picture frame or as a hat." Her joy and confidence. Her patience with me when I'm not patient. Playing Barbie for two days straight. Cracking her up with Ken's "bad back" antics. "I have one hug left tonight. It's for you. And let's make a deal: let's take care of each other the rest of our lives." Amen, little daughter.
2. The Miseducation of Lauren Hill.
3. An armload of incredible books found at Et. Cetera. The remnants of a retro dish set called "Blue Heaven." Calling the women there: "I was just there and I can't stop thinking about blue heaven." "What?" "I mean, can you set something aside for me?"
4. Joe March. Marching on. Your heart (k)new my heart. A finger stained with ink.
5. The joy of waking up slowly, drinking coffee in bed while Nora explains how robot kitties sometimes run out of battery acid.
6. The gift of knowing when I am paying more attention to the flaw in the glass rather than to what good it can do pouring itself out. Give it away. Give it away.