At night, Mama would wash her feet in the bathtub. Dirty feet meant that she had been privileged enough to spend the evening in her garden with her fingers in the soil. She’d dry her feet with a very high-quality hand towel from the complete towel set she’d purchased when she inherited the family home.

She’d pat canned evaporated milk to her face in the bathroom mirror. Her father taught her it must be done to ensure beautiful tight skin like his own. Did she inherit his skin or his habits?

The Long-Life Tea was already steeped, manufactured by the Yogi brand. Part of the tea-drinking ceremony was to acknowledge her impeccable aesthetic taste (the teapot, cups, and saucers). Part of it was to acknowledge her dedication to choosing a long life. Part of it was to acknowledge the transition from the productive portion of the day to the closing portion.

She’d wash each cup and saucer with great care over her granite countertops. She ordered the countertops when her eldest children left home, even though she knew it’d prompt her to do the dishes with greater care; the care she used to put into the mothering.

All six caned chairs were gently tucked in and around her blonde oval oak table. This is the table she received from the Forces That Be just a couple days after putting it on layaway in the 80s. Every night, that table and chairs reminded her that she would always get everything she asked for, because the Higher Power knew she was deserving.

With great presence in each switch, she’d turn off the many lamps that had made it into our home from various thrift stores, remembering how they came into her life. And then she’d snap off the overhead lights and wish each room “good night”.

She’d splash the milk off her face in the bathroom sink, and pat it dry, looking up. She’d smile to see her father reflected at her. He appreciated it when she took his advice.

Before closing the curtains for the night, she’d look out and exclaim in amazement at yet another clear sky and starry night. How exuberant it was to own a roof even when none was needed.

“Goodnight moon!” And the curtains closed.

The simple and universal practice of “Gunalchéesh”, or Gratitude, illuminates our effect on the world, and its effect on us. It creates Relationship between the seemingly inanimate, our inner depths, and the expanse of dream land.

Where does a garden end and the moon begin?