Hyphenated-Homestead

Our porch light generally flickers once before it decides to work. Most evenings, that’s my brain too.

When I started this thing, I didn’t have a content strategy. I had chai, and the feeling that all the small stuff, the good stuff, was slipping through the cracks between meetings and errands.

Writing here became my way of catching it.

– The exact color of my red point maple trees last October (2024).

– The Clemson roommate I remembered on a cold (real cold) day in St. Louis.

– The deer who ate our front yard Lillys. 🤪

– The way yellow daal smells when I go a little heavy on the garlic in the tadka (which is always). And so many small yet genuine moments.

This porch turned into a practice about just noticing things. And I learned that stories show up when I slow down enough for some old memory come knocking and saying “hey, remember me?”

I don’t write because I’ve got big news. I write because small things keep happening, and they want to be noticed.

The porch light keeps turning on. Even on the off days.

Your Turn
What’s the smallest thing that earned a sentence in your life today?

(Four to go)

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