I have
a root cellar full of summer
firewood
pens and paper
pens and paper
a fresh laptop battery
stories to write
books to read
women I can call at three in the morning
a good man to sleep next to through the night
a niece on the way
children to cherish
the use of all my senses
a sense of direction
strong legs
hopes
hope
laughter in me yet
freedom and rights
responsibilities
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