Personal Reflections

Sometimes the things we find are more than what we were looking for. For the past week or so, my family has been packing to move. We’ve been here for 10 years. This wasn’t the first house we’ve lived in, of course, but it feels like we’ve been here a lot longer. And the accumulation…

The quiet company memory leaves behind When I was born, my grandfather planted a tree. As a child, I climbed its branches, scraped my knees, and spent summers beneath its shade. Years later, memory and imagination quietly came together in this piece. While much of it is rooted in childhood memories, part of this reflection…

The ordinary rhythms of family, food, and Saturday mornings Saturdays felt different when I was growing up. The smell of good food rode the wave of music and drifted through the house. The sounds of my childhood are layered into ordinary moments that have formed cherished and lasting memories for me. Looking back, I realize…

The small lessons quietly learned between homework, chicken nuggets, and conversation Dinner time has always been eventful at our house. Some of the fondest memories I have are when the kids were young, in elementary school, and I had returned to finish my degree. I was still working at my job, and I didn’t have…

The ordinary moments we rarely notice until they become memory It’s strange the way we carry things. Memories of days gone by. I don’t think we realized the ordinary things we experienced would matter to us later. A familiar chair someone always sat in.Smells from the kitchen.The small flowers in a vase that always sat…

On Kindness, quiet lessons, and the kind of man my grandfather was As we reflect on this Memorial Day weekend, I am reminded of my grandfather. Honestly, when I think about him, I don’t first think about uniforms or medals. I think about ordinary moments. Apple trees. Saturday mornings. Quiet lessons that seemed small at…

Some aromas hold people we miss I love the smell of coffee, although I rarely drink it. Sometimes in the summer, I’ll drink some icy, sugary-flavored thing with a mound of cream on top, but for the most part, it doesn’t agree with my stomach, so I am a tea or matcha drinker by default.…

Sometimes the things we resist most become a part of what we remember fondly. This story is based on a true memory. Most of it happened just as remembered, though one small moment near the end was imagined reflecting the kindness I carried with me long after. I stood in the kitchen, my heels locked…