To lie in bed with Jody, holding hands
To go see the cashier, instead of paying at the pump
To watch the hummer at the very top of our blue spruce, surveying their kingdom
To drink big gulps from my shining green Herbal Magic water bottle
To sit curled up in my man chair, reading a cool Buddhist book
To inject Jody with Fragmin without hurting her
To wander down a wooded path in London’s Gibbons Park
To smile at a person who’s sad
To touch my bald head and feel the brain parts inside
To put on my cycling jersey with the snarling clown on it
To whee down the big hill on Fruit Ridge Line astride my bike Ta-pocketa
To sit in front of the Buddha statue on the patio, with a candle lighting his face
To make people laugh
To watch one person enjoying the company of another
To wrap my hands around a mug of hot Dulce de Leche
To watch Bill Murray in The Razor’s Edge for the umpteenth time (It’s not a comedy)
To drive at the speed limit on a two-lane highway, watching the world float by
To sing Annie’s Song to Jody, adding a special Irish Blessing verse
To read Mr. Mercedes, Stephen King’s latest, out loud to my lovely wife
To eat pesto pasta with friends
To sit in a sidewalk cafe on an incredibly steep street in San Francisco, just looking
To rub the tummy of our neighbour’s cat Pretty, listening to her purr
To lie in bed at night, cozy under the blanket, listening to the rain pelt down
To breathe life into Snoopy in You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown
To write