I am so grateful to be alive and well.

Gratitude of this size has nowhere obvious to land, which is why it usually gets skipped.

So put it somewhere small. The first mouthful of coffee. A neighbour's car starting badly at the same hour it always does. Light on a wall you have walked past for years. That is the actual texture of being alive and well — not the milestones, the mornings.

Thanks aimed at everything evaporates. Thanks aimed at one ordinary thing, on purpose, for four seconds, stays put. Pick one before the day gets going.