Make a packing list of everything you’ll need for today.
Just for today.

Remember clean underwear, says your mother.

Remember the memory of your dog that died 3 years ago.
Don’t forget weak ties and stranger’s smiles,
the frozen grass that sinks slowly under your weight with each step,
the waning moon.

Do you need to bring water where you are going
– does it taste like where it’s been?
Which textures will soothe your body before sleep?
Do you bring a song?

What will you pack all these things in?
What will require careful wrapping?
What weighty thing goes on the bottom?
Will you really need it?

What will you find today that will remind you
the circumstances of now are new?
(You will need it to know you’re alive.)
What is the shape of it? The color?

Can you walk away taking just the memory of it?