What was on the wall that day.
Catching the last bus.
My daughter sent me a screenshot of her ticket home.
Grateful for the librarian who looked me in the eye when I was seven and said, you read like someone who pays attention.
The summer we slept on the porch because the upstairs was too hot. Whole family. Every night. I'd give anything for one more.
Owl outside the bedroom window at four a.m. I don't get tired of that.
A man returned my wallet with everything in it. He drove twenty minutes out of his way.
Yarn that doesn't tangle.
Grateful for the way my mother smiled when she opened the photograph. She didn't know she still had that smile.
A crow tried to share its breakfast with me today. I declined politely.
The exact right pillow.
Christmas lights still up in February. I love when nobody takes them down.
I remember walking home from elementary school behind two older boys. They never noticed me. I thought they were gods.