Things We Forget

I love going to the local trail because the trees there have watched me grow and never judged me for it.

My favorite place to go in the city is the little coffee hut with the drive-up window. The warmth they hand through the glass feels personal.

My favorite spot is the creaky dock at the edge of the lake. It is the place where I’ve healed the most.

The farmer’s market makes me emotional every time. People smiling over tomatoes feels like proof humanity still works.

My favorite place is the park bench by the willow tree—the one that leans like it’s tired too.

I always end up at the ice cream shop that closes too early. There’s something healing about eating a cone on a warm sidewalk.

The old brick library makes me feel safe, like nothing truly bad can reach me in a building full of stories.

My favorite place is the tiny museum that no one visits. The quiet feels like permission to feel everything.

I love the abandoned train tracks that cut behind the mill. They make me feel like time has paused just long enough for me to catch up.

The little river walk is my sanctuary. People smile and nod when they pass, and it reminds me that connection can be simple.