What was on the wall that day.
My brother is teaching his daughter to ride a bike. He is patient. I did not know he could be that patient.
A waitress remembered I asked for no onions from a year ago.
My dog's deep sigh as she settles by the fire.
I have a dog who looks at me like I'm a particular kind of light.
The night the power went out in '88. We played cards by candlelight. My father told stories of his uncles.
My sister kept my secret for thirty years. I just learned she knew.
A clean junk drawer.
Someone left their snow shovel by my mailbox during the storm. I cleared my walk. I left it for the next person.
My grandmother's church hat. Wide brim. A small fake bird on the side. She wore it every Easter. I have it in a box.
My father teaching me to tie a tie in front of the bathroom mirror. We made it backwards three times before we got it right.
The maple on the corner turned overnight. Yesterday green, this morning fire.
Grateful for whoever made the bench at the bus stop. Old wood. Worn smooth. Good place to wait.