Thursday is making breakfast just for yourself.
It is cutting a thick slice of homemade sourdough bread from the local coffee shop and toasting it until its crust is brittle and crisp.
It is smothering the bread with a leftover avocado half then drizzling it with some olive oil. You top it with crumbled feta, sea salt flakes, black pepper, and crushed red pepper from one of those packets you get at the pizza place, later realizing you forgot the lemon juice.
Thursday is a soft-boiled egg that your cat has taken a bite out of.
It is homemade yogurt with blueberries, granola, and honey that came from your friend’s neighbor’s bees, the jar of golden honey she dropped off when you were sick.
It is a cup of oolong tea, tepid from having gone outside and coming back inside.
Thursday is a glistening spider web extending from the string of lights to your patio table.
It is a care package you receive from a friend out east, precious items procured from different places in the city, in her neighborhood, in the midst of a pandemic-torn landscape.
mijin kang 