Beautiful:

The thrum of locusts,
That abrupt silence when you pass under a bridge in a storm,
Wind on your tent.
Coming out of a movie theater into daylight,
The shiver of a light breeze on bare skin,
rain.
Losing all sense of time in a book on the porch,
Driving home with the windows down after spending all day laughing with your best friend.
Saturday morning,
This tea.
Finding old lists, folded up in strange places.  Realizing you accomplished them all, although maybe not in the way you’d expected at the time.
A new word.
A gorgeous tribute.
A fresh start.