I think I’m onto something. I carried my orchid all over my house, and everyday nooks and crannies became moments of meditation, illuminating things like the last birthday card my mother ever sent me, conch shells I found 40 years ago, a woodcarving from Oaxaca, a vintage chocolate display, my doll collection, my Tibetan singing bowl, a photo of Max holding Jack at 4 days old, a painted box of my father’s, and my kitchen sink.