three things


My mother used to do this thing, when we were kids. She’d be tucking us into bed and the room would be dark already, and she’d ask us, what were today’s three good things? And we would share ours and she would share hers, and oftentimes one of us would list as a good thing this moment, now.

We still play this game, sometimes. There’ll be a lull in whatever conversation we’re having; during dinner, or at sunset in the summer, or on those rare evenings where we are quiet. What were today’s three good things? 


1. There are two cats in the place I’m staying at, in Portland: a big ball of fluff and it’s not-so-fluffy twin. The former loves being petted and the latter loves to explore and tonight we spent twenty minutes in my room doing exactly that. Cat cuddles, man.

2. I came upon a gorgeous tree in bloom; covered in fat pink flowers, some of them heavy and yellowing, decaying. I spent a good while taking pictures of it and fiddling with my camera’s settings; I love taking moody shots of Spring.

3. Mount Tabor. The immense and empty reservoirs, the dandelion oceans, my aching feet, the view of mount Rainier from afar, the half-hour spent doodling barefoot on a bench, the flowers, the sweaty walk up, the butterflies.


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