Special outfits meant standing taller and minding your manners. You checked every button and smoothed every crease. Dressing up was part of the respect.
Those clothes reminded us to carry ourselves with care. The occasion mattered, and so did how we showed up. The best part was not the object or the task, but the people around it. Shared moments turned ordinary things into stories worth keeping. That is the kind of wealth I still measure. It is a gentle reminder that happiness can be ordinary and still feel extraordinary.

Let me tell you about the time Mom said, “Be right back,” and disappeared for what felt like three business days. 🛒💔 Yes. The grocery trip. It started so casually—shoes on, keys in hand, normal voice, zero emotional preparation. She smiled and said the most dangerous sentence in the human language: “I’ll be right back.”
The door closed. 🚪
I waited. Calm at first. Mature. Sitting by the door like a responsible adult dog. Five minutes passed. Then ten. That’s when the thoughts started. What if the groceries kidnapped her? What if she got lost in the snack aisle? What if she met another dog that doesn’t shed??? 😐🐕
I checked the window. Nothing. I checked the door. Still closed. Betrayal confirmed. I lay down dramatically, chin on the floor, staring at the door as it owed me answers. Every sound outside gave me hope—cars, footsteps, wind—lies. All lies. 🍃😤
I paced. I sighed loudly so the universe could hear. I imagined my future—alone, snackless, waiting...