Riding the bus into town this morning I felt lucky. My life feels fecund with opportunity after this stymied period that has been so littered with loss. It is a great privilege to be able to look around and take stock of what one has. There are too many times when life is too cumbersome to be able to truly appreciate the minutea that makes life liveable. The ability to become engorged upon the soup of life–the softness of a cotton sweater, the clarity of the morning light, and the security of the knowledge that someone you love is still alive–is significant in ways I can’t grasp. But I am fine with my own fumbling. It gives me something to do.