An incomplete list of random things interpreted as signs of love from the universe

The deep set of a stranger’s teeth marks in my favorite foam dumbbell at the pool.

The time a clinic assistant asked, “Are you an English teacher?”
to which I excitedly responded, YES! thinking she sensed something about my soul, or maybe was a student on campus and recognized me from there. “How did you know?”
She smiled and shrugged, felt for my pulse. “You’re dressed like one.”

Unbelievably tiny acorns — or as they should be called: teensy-hatted crunch miracles.

The existence of peanut butter.

Riotous flooded river banks that bring hissing ocean songs to Tennessee {of all places}. The morning mist has been so dense that high, dark hills of trees look like colossal resting whales.

Being a “regular” with remembered orders at two particular places:
a plant-packed tea shop and funky hot dog joint.

The sense of hope that can appear and reappear, even from one hour to the next, a Pan-like shadow. This particular strain isn’t subject to whether we are valued or chosen by others, but crops up stubbornly to say: Because you’re alive, you’re worthy of new beginnings. Whenever they appear, slather them in jam and gobble them whole.