Look, I wasn’t sure I wanted to call you today. Nothing personal, just been in a mood. One of those ugh-everything-is-terrible-but-also-I-should-probably-fold-my-laundry kinda moods.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what makes something (or someone) memorable. And my brain keeps circling back to the day I shattered my ankle—a day that started off suspiciously too perfect before everything flipped upside down.
At first, I thought my entire world was over. (Dramatic? Maybe. Accurate? Also yes.) But now, months later, I realize something: that moment changed me in ways I never saw coming. It forced me to redefine what "productivity" even means, to stop overloading myself, and to actually appreciate the little things—like taking a damn shower.
So, here’s what I want to figure out: How do we make moments worth remembering? And what does that mean for how we tell stories, build relationships, or hell, just make it through the day?
This one’s personal.
