Fallen petals on the table.
Scribble on a cocktail napkin.
A little nest made by the mice in the shed accompanied by the empty shells of nibbled birdseed.
The ambiguity of grey.
Sleeping until 10am and feeling sheepishly guilty.
Waking at 4am and understanding that I’m in on a beautiful, crazy secret.
The 500 blog posts I’ve stopped and started.
My dogs’ toys scattered everywhere.
The Williamsburg-blue edge of a now black door that I missed when I was painting…it’s been eight months and I can’t bring myself to finish it.
The tiny handprint on the glass door that Grace left while she was chasing her sister around the house.
The contents of a box of photos scattered on the ground, memories recklessly relived.
A pile of silver foils from an afternoon of Hershey’s Kisses.
The way my dog snuggles up to my shoulder in bed when there’s thunder.
Branches strewn on the lawn after a storm.
Stickers on the back of my best friend’s sweater, because her girls put them everywhere.
Stickers on the bottom of my shoe.
Watching my mother ice skate.
A neglected art project that might never be done.
The burnt things I bake.
Piles of blankets.
Dirty feet from walking barefoot in the lawn.
Empty wine glasses and cards left on the table.
Smeared mascara, a result of crying during a movie.
A stomach ache from too many s’mores.
The way my father eats M&M’s, one handful at a time.
Mary Margret’s sweet 16 portrait from the 1940’s that hangs in my living room. I found it in an antique shop. She’s still alive. She lives in Churchville.
Stick figure drawings on my fridge.
The 4 jokes I know (ask me).
Left over pizza with a bite taken from it.
The way I feel when I make a difference.
Dirty paw prints on the white quilt.
Stripped clothing laying crumbled on the floor.