What was on the wall that day.
A familiar voice on the phone.
Grateful for the bus driver who waits the extra second for the woman with the walker.
My father carrying my brother on his shoulders across the parking lot. I was nine. I wanted to be carried but I was too old.
Grateful for the postman who tucks the mail under the rock when it's raining.
My partner remembers the exact day we met. I do not. I love him more for the asymmetry.
Free public libraries are the best invention of the last thousand years and we just keep having them.
My oldest friend's voicemails always end with miss you, kid.
The sky after a thunderstorm. Washed.
The blue heron is back at the pond. Same one.
My friend listened for two hours without saying anything but mhm and yeah.
A long phone call with someone I love.
The lake at dawn, my dad's hand on the back of my neck, his voice low: stand still, watch.