september '25

notes on little moments

To Whom It May Concern,

I get all my best writing ideas when I’m doing dishes. I have a brain hardwired for repetitive motions. It’s so easy to get lost in it, to get swept away in the feeling of the soap lathered on your hands, the water gently carrying it away. Rinse and repeat, you could say. My mind wanders until I find some little sentence to hold on to, and build upon, such as: I get all my best writing ideas when I’m doing dishes.

I write a lot about little moments for someone who doesn’t seem to prioritize them. Since moving across the country (Hi! I’m in New Orleans now!), I’ve (naturally) been unemployed, lending my time to be filled with lots of little moments. I’m certainly making progress on the employment situation, of course, with a couple of rather successful job interviews I’m waiting to hear back about, but the waiting is all I’m really doing. I’ve been grocery shopping, and reading, and replaying video games, and doing so many dishes. Nobody tells you that adulthood involves so many dishes! But it’s good for the art.

A little moment, to me, is a chance to slow down. A moment to notice your surroundings, to check in with yourself, and to think about anything and everything; to follow a train of thought to the very last stop. A second to appreciate what you have.

I’ve been finding lots of these this week, especially as I fall into the rhythm of living with my husband. It’s no secret that I’ve always loved the idea of homemaking, political implications aside, and playing house has been so fun. I find little moments in the domesticity of it all. We’ve always been good at doing our own thing, side by side, and it feels extra special knowing that now, we’re doing them in our home that we share. Even if it is a sort of evil dorm apartment. I will make it a home, damnit!

One of my favorite writers, Chloe Williams, said a million years ago that one of her pieces of writing advice was to do nothing, and let your mind wander. I always seem to forget this when I want to write, and am sitting there willing the words to come out of me. It’s only until I experience a little moment, like doing dishes, or sitting quietly, or walking nowhere in particular and staring at gorgeous southern architecture, that something comes to me, and it’s never what I expect. The words inside me surprise myself, still.

My mind has been wandering such interesting places these days. Memories are resurfacing that have been buried for a long time, and to my credit, I’m simply letting them pass. I watch them float by and I feel very little about it, which is to say I feel quite numb, until I don’t. The emotions are manifesting themselves in other ways that I don’t seem to understand until it’s too late. I suppose it’s better late than never, right? These displays of emotion are themselves little moments. Something to recognize, and to acknowledge as they pass. They’re lessons, just as much as the lessons that can be found in quiet places. They teach me to slow down, and to seek to understand, and to accept. I need to work on remembering this, too.

I’m always writing about how I strive to slow down. Being forced to finally slow down reminds me why I don’t— it’s hard work. Being alone with yourself, and your thoughts, and your experiences means doing the work to understand and accept them, and it’s easier to simply keep myself busy. There’s a balance to it, though, that I think I’ve been missing. That I’m starting to understand. It’s been a week of living in New Orleans, and I’ve started the process of settling in, now that it’s hit me that I actually live here. Developing a new routine from scratch requires trial and error, and for me, I’m starting to see that there needs to be stimulation and drive and a purpose in my life, as well little moments to reconnect with myself. Those memories that have been buried are buried for a reason, and I maintain that it’s best to let them stay that way. It’s good, however, to have practice experiencing them when they do resurface. To address them in the little moments, before they become a big deal.

Oftentimes, writing these letters helps me come to conclusions. I had an English teacher tell me once that sometimes you have to write yourself into a better thesis, and I stand by that (but certainly not said English teacher). Sometimes, I have to write myself into the conclusion or the lesson I want to impart. When I start with one of those sentences I catch in a little moment, I often don’t know where I’ll end up. Some might say this is bad practice. I say that I can find the point I’m trying to make in the second draft. I enjoy writing, and I’m proud of my work, but I’m not a professional. This is for me. Writing is something that helps me slow down, and gives me purpose, and I appreciate that there’s someone to read it at the end and share in that with me. That’s my favorite kind of little moment; the ones you share.

Love,

Miffy

P.S.

I started making monthly Pinterest boards this month, as an intentional little moment. This is the one for September!