What was on the wall that day.
The woman in front of me at the coffee shop paid for mine. No reason. She just did.
The way the chestnut tree leaves drop all at once on the first cold day.
My son sent me a song with a note: this reminded me of you.
My partner cooks for me when I'm sick without making a thing of it.
My father had one good suit. He wore it to my graduation, my brother's, my sister's, his own retirement. It outlived him.
Grateful for the kindness of strangers on the train when my baby would not stop crying. They smiled. They told me, this is what they do.
Watermelon. Cold. Outside. With a little salt. Don't fight me.
Mountains in the distance. I forgot how green they get.
New hand soap in the bathroom.
The bus driver waved me down when I was running for the stop. Small mercies count.
A barista wrote you've got this on my cup. I'd been crying that morning. She couldn't have known.
My friend reads me her bad poems. I love that she lets me.