1.  I’m living each day one at a time.  We got a Meniere’s diagnosis from Dr. M—but even with a diagnosis the visit was hugely different/better/more calming than the previous visit with his dork PA.  Each day after holds its shape with a great surface tension, like a drop of water, falling.  We know our mortality, the complete weakness and deterioration of our bodies, how love outlasts the body—even the mind.

2.  This is Day 2 of my life as a poet who has successfully defended her thesis and passed her oral exam.  I slept in this morning for the first time (still had classes to teach, yesterday), woke in neat, clean sheets.

3.  Yesterday I fed my domestic soul (which had been so pale, so wan, so starveling) by doing laundry, changing sheets, by clearing out the front- and side-garden beds, by showering, wearing Indian jasmine oil and a white dress, and going to Stanley’s Greenhouse without my phone to wander around.  The greenhouse, so vast, its long tables stretching what feels like a hundred yards, the warm air moving like whispers past your cheek, your ears.  I think I was there for an hour, and left with seeds for dill, forget-me-nots, basil, beets, and spinach.

4.  Now that I passed my oral, I can start doing things that I want to do, rather than things I need to do.  I have the feeling of breaking through a net, I have the feeling that I can do anything I want today.  Which—miracles—I can.  Wow.