If every day is the first day of the rest of your life, then this is every day’s list. When I was three years old I was fearless. Today the best I have is hope, and I cling desperately to her so she can’t slip away from my white-knuckled grip. I will find beauty in all the things, but particularly in the broken ones. I will remember what I want to remember, and forget the rest.

I will lie on my back on the floor and listen to records. I will swing on swing sets. I will hold your hand. I will dance in the rain in a sun dress. I will roll down grassy hills. I will sip honeysuckle nectar. I will wear my Rolling Stones t-shirt and a tutu and Chucks, in homage to the most beautiful 4-year-old I ever met, who informed me she had dressed herself, and told me her name was Cassidy after the Grateful Dead song.

I will roller skate in the park. I will roar at the ocean. I will pick strawberries. I will make friends with a butterfly. I will run away. I will find a four leaf clover. I will laugh for the wrong reasons and cry for the right ones. I will breathe. I will sing Puff the Magic Dragon to my cat. I will shine. I will believe in fairies. I will spend an hour lying in bed naked trying to translate the language of the birds outside the window.

I will read The Great Gatsby out loud. I will give myself permission to fall in love, and then I’ll do it. I will drink water. I will wear a tiara to the grocery store and pretend I’m a princess. I will have vanilla ice cream for breakfast. I will play hopscotch. I will write warm letters anonymously and mail them to random strangers. I will let my guard down. I will take a nap. I will smile.

I will tell you I love you. I will mean it.