What was on the wall that day.
Beyond amazed at the beauty of sweet conversation at a Mexican restaurant between strangers who became quick friends.
On a Tuesday evening, a man asked if I was okay. He said I looked a little pensive and he was right. In that simple moment, I felt seen. His kindness stayed with me longer than the conversation itself, reminding me that even small acts of awareness can quietly lift someone’s day.
Sheets right out of the dryer, in winter, on a bed I just made.
Today I'm grateful for the orthodontist who used to slip me extra rubber bands because he knew I'd lose them.
Walking into the bookstore and it smells like new books and old wood.
The smell of my grandfather's workshop. Sawdust and WD-40 and pipe tobacco. I'd bottle it if I could.
The mechanic told me what was actually wrong and how to fix it myself.
Putting on pajamas straight from the dryer in February. Briefly, all is well.
A man on the train let me have his seat without making it weird.
My kid told me a secret today and asked me not to tell anyone. I won't.
My body recovered. I didn't think it would, and it did. I am thanking it every day.
She laughs with her whole body. I'd marry her again for that alone.
Christmas Eve 1987, sleeping on the floor of my cousin's room because there weren't enough beds, listening to the adults laugh in the kitchen.
Sharing favorite songs with each other and finding out that both are named, "Kiss Me"!
Getting old enough to know exactly what I like and stop apologizing for it.
Thirty-one years of marriage and he still brings me tea in the morning without asking.
Riding my bike to the public pool with a quarter for the snack bar. Sunscreen, chlorine, the whole afternoon ahead.
A perfect peach. The juice down my wrist. August doing its one good thing.
My partner remembers everyone's birthdays. Even my mother's. Even her mother's mother's.
The maple on the corner turned overnight. Yesterday green, this morning fire.
A man returned my wallet with everything in it. He drove twenty minutes out of his way.
Got my first paycheck from a job I actually like. Bought my dad a tie he doesn't need.
Sleeping in. Not by accident. On purpose. With nowhere to be.
Fog rolled in over the bay so thick you could only see the second story of the house. Felt like a held breath.
My partner cooks for me when I'm sick without making a thing of it.
The woman in front of me at the coffee shop paid for mine. No reason. She just did.
When I was nine my teacher told me I had something to say. I have been saying things ever since.