Only recently have I realized how precious those days were—the ones I once took for granted. Though I long to reclaim the moments I never thought to question, I refuse to see each day as merely ordinary. Consider the thrill of the first snowfall—and the serene calm that follows—only to vanish too soon. The phrase “every day” implies something more personal than a simple routine, yet it still carries a sense of monotony. How, then, can we describe the joy of a day that feels neither repetitive nor empty?
“Poetry and Lunch”
Just as a poet carefully selects words for a poem, I handpick fresh, diverse ingredients, preparing each dish with care. Cooking is a dance between the ordinary and the extraordinary—a delicate push and pull. It starts with simple, fresh ingredients, yet through their natural harmony, it transforms into a dish full of flavor. This joy is like a vegan meal—pure, nourishing, and deeply satisfying.
"Looking back, I realize that true happiness is found in the moments that stay with us the longest. For me, it was preparing a heartfelt meal for my wife and parents, then watching them savor every bite."
Cooking lunch for a loved one—and seeing them receive it with genuine delight—creates an unforgettable memory. We say something “lingers” when it remains in our thoughts or sight without fading. True happiness quietly surrounds us, like a gentle fog, settling deep into our memories.
“A Poem Left Behind Like Footprints”
Late in the afternoon, I take a walk through my neighborhood. As I jog and pick up litter—plogging—I stumble upon an unexpected sense of fulfillment, realizing how much I had taken these clean streets for granted. Then, I pause before a poem etched into a stone, as if it were left behind like footprints on fresh snow.
I strike up a conversation with a neighbor who confesses a deep fondness for these lines:
“The sun has long since faded; I lie in my room like cold rice. No matter how slowly I do my homework, Mother never comes home.”
The poem stirs memories of my own childhood—the long hours spent waiting for my mother to return from work. My gaze drifts toward the horizon, where the mountains meet the sky. I hope that the days ahead, moving at the pace of drifting clouds, will be just a little gentler—like the sloping ridges of the mountains, bowing in quiet humility.
“Lingering Echoes of a Day”
“Rather than filling my free time with activities, I prefer to do nothing at all. It’s how I gather my thoughts and recharge. Most evenings, after work, I turn on a classical music station, sink into the couch, and read—without forcing myself to get through too many pages.”
I fully embrace these solitary moments, a quiet pause between today and tomorrow. As I adjust the weight and rhythm of my day, I savor the lingering echoes of voices and faces I miss. I trust that this brief distance will make our next meeting feel even more intimate. I look forward to a time when simply being together is enough—when we can understand each other without elaborate words, just nodding in quiet agreement.
I may not be well-versed in poetry, but if poetry is about observing life and discovering meaning, then perhaps every small step I took today was its own kind of verse. Like echoes of a poem lingering in the air, let us each take our own poetic steps—toward a day that, in its own way, distills the beauty already woven into our daily lives.