Counting, numbering, tagging perfumed kindnesses, graces observed this day. To be called out by name as though a daisy with a sunshiny yellow balloon was attached to my wrist lifting me and prompting me to soar with it. To higher ground. Higher. Higher still.
Faith. Family. Friends.
Light and Love.
Endless if I break it down to details.
Such as the water in my sink that turned a bright pink bubbly wobbly heart as I washed out the remains of yesterday’s beet soup.
Bright neon hearts and perky polka dots on a real-life Goldielocks. If only you could hear the joy I heard. Birds laughed out loud too.
Ribbons and more ribbons tickling my fingers on an early afternoon walk.
Just around the corner, a wall not aimlessly defaced but uplifted by a kindred spirit, a botanical dreamer with a pocketful of whimsy.
The way light bounces on and off the petals of a flower. The ease with which a flower contours to tight spaces when gently bundled and urged. Not just one nor a dozen nor a thousand, but boundless new mercies each dawn to dusk, dusk to dawn and every breath between.
Count your blessings.
Name them one by one.