One should always celebrate big

for you have no idea how many more

celebrations will be. Celebrate with

a cinnamon roll, a campfire, a walk through

the woods, or a room of friends.

Toss confetti to the sky and count eyebrows.

They may disappear some unfortunate day.

Smell daffodils and drink chamomile. When

you’re waiting for a diagnosis a hundred beautiful

memories is not too many to carry you through those

fateful seconds. Read a poem and write a song. Then

breathe deep and snore long. A good night is

close to the best gift one can be given.

You know how the farmer

drops corn seeds into the dirt

covers them with clods

and waits

with an eye to the sun

and a prayer to the clouds

and then hopes

and watches

for green shoots to tell him

that planting was not in vain,

to remind him that rain will sprout life

from shriveled kernels. At last

a faint green mist covers the field.

The neighbor driving by breathes deeper

and picks up the chalk again

to continue the next math lesson.