7 Good Things

Tiny pleasures, cherry cheesecakes, and remembering to resurface.

This summer, I’ve been noticing the small ways I return to myself. Not through grand reinventions or dramatic turning points or the three-month glow-up plan I had ChatGPT generate one particularly low evening, but through ordinary moments: simple pleasures I return to, familiar places that still surprise me, grief that changes shape over time. Below are seven things that just feel good right now.

1. At the neighborhood pool, there’s a diving board. I catch myself eavesdropping on kids as they wait in line. Make the biggest splash you can! I dare you to touch the bottom. Canonball! I forgot how magical diving boards are when you’re eight. The impossible moment of standing at the end, the board wobbling beneath your feet, your heart convinced this is a terrible mistake, but jumping anyway. Then, you sink all the way to the bottom and the world goes quiet. You trust your body knows what to do, so you kick hard, break the surface, and realize you are okay. I think about that feeling a lot lately. Not the jump, but the resurfacing. Maybe that’s what this summer is for me. Not moving on, necessarily. Not healing. Just remembering what it feels like to come back up for air.

2. Sweet treats have become part of my summer infrastructure: graham cracker ice cream after dinner downtown, opening the Raisinets I just bought before I even put the car in reverse, grilled peaches drizzled with honey, a bowl of mini marshmallows in the evening, one of those tiny cherry cheesecake cups from the Amish Market for breakfast.

3. Friends came to visit in June, and my husband and I showed them around our small waterfront town. We walked through our neighborhood, ate dinner at a popular seafood restaurant, and drank coffee at a picnic table overlooking the harbor. For years, I was convinced that staying in one place meant becoming one version of yourself forever. I thought evolution required leaving. But now I think places hold space for our past selves, not because they want us to stay there, but because they give us somewhere to return to and remember how far we’ve come.

   

4. There is a lot to be said for the satisfaction that comes from tiny pleasures. Fresh flowers. Travel-size toiletries. The good hand sanitizer. Spraying the essential oils on my pillows at bedtime. Lighting the candle before a long shower. Frothing the milk in my coffee and making whoosh, whoosh noises.

5. While I cook, I feed my dog pieces of cucumber or watermelon or bell pepper or whatever produce I am chopping. I hand each one to him like it’s the chef’s special and say, “Here you go, buddy. You deserve this,” with the kind of ceremony reserved for a seven-course tasting menu. His eyes squint in happiness and drool drips from the damp fur of his chin. I stop what I’m doing to watch him crunch with delight. Two beings, equally convinced this is the best thing that’s happened all day.

6. I’m envious of certain summer bodies. Not the young girls in barely-there bikinis, but the expectant moms. The ones that are all belly. I can’t help but stare at the oily, tanned bumps that protrude over neon bikinis and stretch the fabric of gauzy linen dresses. Every time I pass one, something inside me quietly splits in two. One version of me smiles because I know someone is living inside a miracle they’ve probably waited for, hoped for, prayed for. The other version winces and has to look away for just a second. Both parts are telling the truth and not silencing either feels like healing.

7. There is an Instagram trend right now that insists midlife is really just getting to become the thirteen-year-old version of yourself again except this time you actually like her. I keep thinking grief has a version of that too. Not becoming who I was before, but becoming someone new that I’m slowly making friends with.

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   Writing this feels a little bit like sending something I cherish out into the world and hoping it finds the right people. I’d love to hear what you’re enjoying and what you’d like more (or less) of. Let me know by filling out the survey below.