The skylight above my bed, birds singing, freshly baked banana bread I made the day before and my coffee beans waiting in my pour over downstairs. The ritual of quiet time with my journal, Wallace on the couch by my side, lighting a candle and watching the Aspens from the window before our morning three loop walk.

Laying in my mother’s lap in a restaurant as a toddler. Hearing a stranger come up the table and compliment my mom on her beautiful boy.