What was on the wall that day.
Geese on the pond. The same group every year. They know me.
The sound of my parents talking quietly in the kitchen at night. I'd wake up and feel safe just hearing them.
My friend remembers my dog's birthday.
Cracking open a fresh jar of peanut butter.
Honeysuckle on the back fence. The whole yard smells like 1986.
Owl outside the bedroom window at four a.m. I don't get tired of that.
My mom kept all of my report cards. Each in its own folder.
Putting the bird feeder back full.
My oldest friend and I send each other obituaries of people we never met. It is a long conversation about being alive.
I learned to skate on the lake behind my grandparents' house. The chairs we pushed for balance were old kitchen chairs.
Cracking an egg cleanly with one hand on the first try.
New mittens.