- Bradley. Brown-eyed with a flop of sandy hair. Liked to hold my hand.
- A green bikini I wore on a trip to Mexico. Paraded around as I munched on mangoes.
- The stuffed Toto dog, greying from love with every passing month.
- "Bienvenudo", my pet dragon, whom I imagined was on the end of my invisible leash.
When I was 10 I loved:
- Zachary. Wrote it in my diary. Told him in the closet and he said "Yeah?"
- "The Pirates of Penzance", "Cats" and "Annie", whom I knew I would play on Broadway one day.
- Rice Krispie Treats, hot, a spiderweb of marshmallows melting in my mouth.
- Stickers that puffed out, glowed in the dark, whirled around on the page in my scrapbook.
When I was 25 I loved:
- John. Blue-eyed. Sexy, funny, sensitive. Drummer.
- The ginormous oak coffee table in which we could both fit.
- Italian restaurant dinners, full of pasta and "Merlot" which I thought was the only type of red wine.
- Gatherings at our apartment of women telling stories, making us laugh, strutting their wares.
At 50 I love:
- Keith. My steady, silly, soulful, soy-free soulmate.
- Kale, sauteed. An emerald gift.
- Any sign that the world might be a better place than I think it is.
- The feeling of possibility when it's finally 72 degrees and I can think.