A friend sent me this picture yesterday, and I was reminded of the days during which the photo was taken. When I first met Matt, he had a group of friends who would go away together twice a year to a place in Sonoma called Rainbow Ranch. I never thought those days would end. Long-haired, young, early days with Matt days. And I was reminded how everything ends. Everything. If I had realized then that those days were going to end, I think I would have appreciated them more. The singing. The dancing. The smell of that dry air in May. Matt in his red shorts going running every morning. Then I thought about these days. Pandemic days—and how they too will end sometime. And how, if possible, I want to remember that no matter what, these are the good old days because I’m alive. I’m breathing. I can still hold Matt’s hand, do puppy bows with Izzy, see the stars at night. Returning again and again to the abundance of this moment. To the oxygen that is free. To the ground that holds me. And to those, and to you who reads these posts, I say thank you thank you thank you.