The kettle
for knowing exactly when I need a pause

The favorite mug
for holding more comfort than liquid

The kitchen table
for quietly witnessing everything

The lamp in the corner
for being kinder than overhead lighting

The couch
for catching me when I sit down harder than intended

The blanket that lives on the chair
for making rest feel allowed

The notebook
for holding thoughts I don’t want to carry anymore

The pen that writes smoothly
for making it easier to begin

The window
for light, weather, and perspective

The sink
for letting things be cleaned and done

The coat on the hook
for making leaving and returning feel simple

The clock
for measuring time
and, occasionally, for being ignored

The door
for closing when I need quiet
for opening when I’m ready again

None of these objects are remarkable on their own.
But together, they hold the shape of everyday life. And maybe that’s why they deserve thanks. For showing up, over and over, without asking to be noticed.

Autumn