Aren’t you just amazed at how incredibly lucky we are to be breathing right now? Someone I love is sick. I’m reading Joan Didion’s A year of magical thinking. I gave a granola bar to A homeless man and he touched my hand in the most tender way I immediately seized up. My daughter left for spring break with her cousins this morning and when I went to put her toys back in her room only five minutes after she had left, I missed her so much. It’s an emotional time. All of these facts are reminders of gratitude, of privilege, of every reason to be happy. I will hold onto them when I feel sorry for myself, on the long days, when the things I say in insecurity break my own heart. How beautifully lucky I am. It is in these moments of pain and realization of how fragile our lives are, that I really am most alive, most blessed.

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