What was on the wall that day.
Bluebird in the garden. First one I've seen here.
Loon call across the lake at dawn.
A driver behind me waited a full minute while I parallel parked. He didn't honk.
My grandmother kept a tin of biscuits on top of the refrigerator. They were always slightly stale. They were perfect.
My dad and I have a code word for I love you. We use it in front of his friends.
My father holds my hand at the doctor's office. I'm forty-six.
My mother always said g'night, kiddo, even when I was forty. I miss g'night kiddo.
My husband forgave me for something I will not forgive myself for, yet.
My mother-in-law remembers every birthday in my family. Including the dog's.
Wet leaves on the road, all the same colors.
My grandmother's reading glasses on a chain. I have a pair now. I still slip them off and let them dangle.
Finishing a long phone call with a friend.