All the things I would never ask for.

Love me with kindling, neatly packed in boxes, one new for each time you visit.

Love me with the garden, with mouthwatering tomatoes and piquant peppers, sweet corn, extravagant squashes, rich Concord grapes, and oceans of green beans. Love me with jam jars, and pickled beets.

Love me with birthday cakes, enriched with dark chocolate, wine, and cranberry jam filling three luxuriant layers. Love me with coffee beans.

Love me with sketchbooks, and real books, and audio books anonymously filling my listening queue.

Love me with cash, with checks in the mail, with rent money.

Love me job leads, references, groceries.

Love me with hugs, with messages of care and compassion.

Love me with counsel and advice, with words of peace when I am angry, with words of challenge when I am weak, and love me with stories.

Love me with the loan of a laptop.

Love me with leftovers, cleaning products, and cookies.

Love me with plane tickets, and phone calls, and impromptu dinners.

Love me with church, and lunch afterward.

Love me with babysitting.

Love me with camping trips, a guest pass to the gym.

Love me with freely given meals, coffees, happy hours.

Love me with laughter, and forgetting momentarily.

Love me with remembering who I am when I forget.

Love me with silence that feels like rejection as I rage against my walls, and fences, and glass ceilings.

Love me as I fail, as I fall, as I break, as I wait.