The night shift was long, beta, but I saw the sun rise over the mountains as I watered my marigolds. Sometimes the small, solid things—like these blooms in an old container—hold you steady when the big numbers in the fee booklet make your heart race.

Beta, I was knitting my mother’s socks last night while the crossword sat unfinished, and I kept thinking about our girls on the court. My son tells me the WNBA players shoot over 35% from three now — I double-checked the stat on his phone — but we still can’t get a single quarter aired here. Arey, even the marigolds in my balcony pots need consistent light to bloom; how long must these women wait for their turn under the sun?