It’s just a small bundle of price tags. I found them in an old bureau. Having nothing to price, I began writing on them the things that are the most valuable to me. Tagging what I’m ever grateful for. My priceless. 

On my best days, I add to the list. Writing with a fever all the good things happening. On my other days, you know the ones, when you’re knee deep in all that otherness, I still have the hand and heart free to give the bundle a little shake, a little shake that reveals my growing everything. A revelation that makes me add to the list — wisdom — short for, “On the days that I can’t create something beautiful, at least let me have the wisdom to see it.”

Since creating my gratitags, one thing has become so clear. I am the author. The keeper of. It’s so easy to think someone else has the power to change your day, ruin your day. I’m as guilty as the next person, this giving it away. But then I see my tiny tags. Still all tied together. I step out of the other, into the everything, and I am gratefully whole.