1. I am the only one awake.
2. There is something about the the height of the grass that makes me high-step through it as I drag the hoses.
3. The recycling truck is always first and it is the crashing of glass that greets me this morning.
4. Five baby tomatoes, soft yellow and pale green.
5. The scent of peppermint, oregano, and sage. I promise them that this time I will keep them alive. I finger the dried-out leaves of the potted hydrangea and reveal the new growth below. When does nature know to quit?
6. It is the whiteness of the walls, I think. How the whiteness is so expansive. I am uncomfortable.
7. I think again about the words I said to them last night: "I have to focus on the ways in which I can cultivate joy for myself."
8. Goodbyes. I am surprised by my sadness.
9. The dusty but rich color of the strand of dried rosebuds.
10. I am still the only one awake.