What was on the wall that day.
Grateful that I had grandparents long enough to know what grandparents were for.
Three deer crossed the road in front of me. The fawn stopped to look at me.
My boss said go home, take care of your mother, we'll figure it out. They figured it out.
The exact right amount of butter on the toast. Don't try, you'll mess it up.
My oldest friend and I send each other obituaries of people we never met. It is a long conversation about being alive.
Grateful I can hold a pen. Some days I forget how lucky that is.
My first concert. I was fourteen. I wore a denim jacket. I remember every song.
The night the power went out in '88. We played cards by candlelight. My father told stories of his uncles.
My mother always said g'night, kiddo, even when I was forty. I miss g'night kiddo.
My dad wears the bracelet my daughter made for him to his country club.
My mother used to read TV Guide out loud at breakfast. Plot summaries of soap operas. We were enthralled.
A swing set in a park, empty, on a bright day.