Penicillin. (Strep Boy is much better.)
It is no longer 100 degrees.

First peas from the garden.
The scent of jasmine by the garage door.
“Sky High.” (Was it you,
lunchboxes dot com. After my son lost his third lunchbox near the end of the school year, I made him brown-bag it. But with sports camp on his horizon, I couldn’t resist getting this for him.
Homemade berry pies.
Photography (see peas) and my new fascination with the visual, instead of the verbal.
That happy post-request/pre-rejection daydreamy state, in which you dare to hope.