I’m standing in front of my mailbox, mindlessly sifting through my Monday mail. Between the grocery store flyers, a postcard reminding me to purchase new tires in preparation for winter weather, and a parking ticket addressed to my apartment’s previous tenant, I’m unimpressed with the day’s delivery.
I’m not paying attention to my surroundings, and as I shut the small metal door of my mailbox, I’m startled to find a man standing next to me. Though I know him—he lives across the small courtyard that separates our apartments—his appearance surprises me and causes the contents of my hands to quickly scatter to the floor below us.
Continue reading “Week 34: Underneath the Same Big Sky | Everyday Nostalgia”
I’m dragging an open pair of scissors down the well-taped seam of a brown cardboard box. Generally speaking, this is a common occurrence in our household, given that my Amazon Prime membership makes it so incredibly easy to get basic, everyday items delivered to me in just two days.
But although having a package to open isn’t unusual, the contents inside are far from ordinary.
My daughter Zoey is next to me, her hands clasped tightly together, her little legs propelling her up and down into joyful, happy jumps.
“What’s taking you so long?” Zoey exclaims, throwing her arms up in the air. “Hurry up! Please?!” Continue reading “Week 32: Everything I Ever Needed to Know I Learned From My School Supplies | Everyday Nostalgia”
I step onto the scale for the third time in less than a minute. For some reason, I believe that if I do it more than once, the number staring up at me might change—and in the direction I want—but every time, it’s the same.
Every. Single. Time.
This nightly ritual has been going on for months. I know that one day, if I knew my daughter was doing what I am doing right now, my heart would break. It would ache to know that she was letting three little numbers sum up her self-worth.
But right now, the girl on the scale isn’t her: it’s me. And although the digital read out flashes three numbers that are so low, they’re only a handful away from being two, I am still so unsatisfied with them. No matter what I do, or how low they go, it doesn’t feel like enough. Somehow, I feel like I am too much and not enough all at the same time, and that feeling? It’s a feeling I’ve come to hate.
Continue reading “Week 27: By the Numbers | Everyday Nostalgia”
It’s 11:30 in the morning, and I’m sitting at a cafeteria table.
The air is filled with the sound of children’s voices and the smell of the day’s hot lunch—chicken nuggets and french fries—but to be perfectly honest, I’m really not paying that much attention: My lunchbox sits in front of me, and my little 8-year-old self is trying to guess what’s inside.
For as long as I remember, my mom has made my school-time lunches, and I love them so much that I hardly ever buy hot lunch. Because aside from the typical yummy sandwiches and snacks, she always throws in a few extra special treats. One of them is always a Little Debbie. I don’t have discriminating tastes when it comes to these delicious desserts, so it’s always a surprise as to which one my lunchbox holds: Will it be an Oatmeal Creme Pie, or maybe a Zebra Cake? Maybe it’s a Swiss Roll, a Star Crunch, or a Fudge Round. It might even be a Nutty Bar, a Chocolate Chip Cake, or—if it’s December—a Christmas Tree Cake. Continue reading “Week 26: The Good Stuff | Everyday Nostalgia”
It’s early evening, and we are standing in the checkout line at the grocery store. In my hands, I hold a shopping basket filled with chicken and cheese and tortillas and an assortment of vegetables—lettuce and carrots and peppers and tomatoes and…a pack of gum?
I glance at my daughter Zoey as she hops from foot to foot beside me. “What?” she asks, making her eyes big, obviously knowing exactly what my look means.
I point to the gum, and she shrugs her shoulders. “It’s strawberry flavored,” Zoey says. “And you said we needed some fruit.”
I look back at basket. She’s right: the only fruit I see are three pink, cartoon strawberries dancing across the plastic gum wrapper. I sigh. In my haste, I’ve totally forgotten the bananas I need for my breakfasts and the blueberries Zoey requested for her lunches. Continue reading “Week 25: Weaving a Web of Intentional Kindness | Everyday Nostalgia”