Five things I can see:
     beam of sunlight peeking through dusty curtains
          two-toned purple water bottle with the straw up
               my favorite pair of jeans wadded up on the floor
                    Robin Williams inspirational magnet on the board
                         vibrant orchid pattern on my new bedsheets from my mom

Four things I can feel:
     thick plush grey blanket weighing down my limbs
          smooth shellac of the polish coating my fingernails
               mosquito bite on my ankle itching from mowing grass
                    wooden grain of the nightstand traced by my fingertips

Three things I can hear:
     consistent hum of the air conditioning vent in the floor
          muffled giggles of my nephew playing outside with my sister
               tapping of a pen in quick succession against the back of my phone

Two things I can smell:
     scent of bacon sizzling in the air fryer for a late brunch
          remnants of lavender pillow spray lingering on my pillowcase

One thing I can taste:
     wintergreen mint dissolving on my tongue before I bite it in half

And, unexpectedly, another thing I deeply know:
     I am stronger than I have ever been