Sometimes, I—along with many people, I imagine—forget that.
To be a human on Earth, it feels nice. I feel lucky.
To have the ability to walk on two legs and roam on soil, to have two clear eyes that can view the sky, the trees, the mountains, the ocean, and the stars at night.
To have a nose with two little holes and a pair of lungs that can take in the fresh air, and two ears that can hear music and listen to the soothing words of people I adore. To have lips that can kiss. To have a heart that can “love.”
Earth is the only place in this vast universe (at least, as far as we know) where I can drink coffee, where I can walk on paved roads shaded by trees, where I can eat millions of kinds of food. Where I can hug people, where I can write letters, where I can take colored photos. Where life is preserved.
Sometimes, I forget that it’s nice simply to exist and be alive.
Maybe if I keep my expectations—of myself and others—a little more grounded to the earth, I can be happier.
