This beginning of this week is unflinching. As if you had no reaction to an old lover sneaking her arm around your waist at a concert. A scene that normally shocks, causes you to pull stunts but those crawling fingers on your ripped army tee feel familiar so you just stand there like a double in the final take, down and dumbstruck waiting for your moment, dreaming of the good ol’ days when you used to command the right kind of attention.

Cancer season tastes of 100% cacao and single origin coffee. Biting into a dark piece of definitely not grandma’s cookies. A sip that longs for sweetness and discovers instead a whole history tucked into a tiny cup, aromas of the earth’s ages born to succulent fruit whose skins are picked away, leaving us with the pits to pine over. Cancer creams us into feeling peachy while we pout and savors the sentimental like lukewarm lemonade. With all this nostalgia we’re bound to look at the past with a set of readers whose prescription doesn’t fill us up.

The Six of Cups shoots moonbeams over pipe dreams, revealing hollow reveries so we can soak in simple pleasures. Usher nostalgia into your present. Start from scratch because sizzling garlic is the standard for caring enough to commit acts of kindness to your body. Breathe in fresh steam; the kind that lifts peppermint to a nose hovering over a mug. Relish the mystifying paradox of heat drawing down the temp of an anxious core. Let the cool glow of a laptop wash your face as you draft a gratitude list to a friend in the evening. Say a prayer to the whirr of air-conditioning that muffles the sound of a roommate rearranging herself on the futon. Admire the sensation of half dry hair and the quiet hum of appreciation for being clean rippling through your chest. The warmth of water in your cup, of blue feelings, Maggie Nelson’s poems, salty ocean on peeling skin and a sky that never ends. Allow the simple things, all at once known quantities, laced with intricate magic, to bring you home.