The Art of Lingering
Lessons from cold mornings, bathtub alligators, and subway shoes.
My grandma had an alligator named Aloysius growing up. He lived in the bathtub.
Every day, I walk to the park about a mile from my apartment and pass a piece of cardboard stuck to a wall. Every few weeks, it’s swapped out for a new one—painted with flowers, a tree, or birds. Left for the trash guys? Or for people walking by to smile at? Who knows. I love it.
If you look at everyone’s shoes on the subway, you learn more about them than you’d think.
Waving at someone is proof that childish joy never really leaves us. Try waving—really big, over your head—at a friend, a loved one, a sibling. The smile you’ll get back is worth it.
Cooking should always happen with music. And if you’re cooking with someone, don’t stress about the dishes. A hug makes everything taste better.
In my anatomy class, I learned that we should all practice walking on our heels with our toes flexed up toward us. It strengthens our feet and big toes—one of the best ways to prevent shuffling, which, as we age, is a major reason we fall.
If you microwave a bowl of water with a cut lemon in it for three minutes, you’ll sanitize and clean it.
A 20-second hug boosts serotonin and can even help keep colds away.
Still here?
It’s the little things—planned or not—that make us smile. Sometimes they arrive as memories. Sometimes as bright surprises. Sometimes they’re as simple as a loved one calling after work just to chat on the way home. Whatever they are, hang on to them. Hold them close when you need to stand tall.
But standing tall doesn’t always mean pushing forward. It’s not about setting the next goal or fixing what feels broken. Sometimes, standing tall is just about being here—rooted in a moment that makes time slow down. Feeling the warmth of sunlight on your face. Really tasting the way berries pop when you bite into them. Listening when someone speaks, without planning what you’ll say next.
It’s easy to think the way out of feeling overwhelmed is to plan your escape. But what if, instead, it’s about reaching out? Holding out a hand. Asking a question—not to fix anything, just to show someone you’re here, that you’re curious about them.
What’s your favorite way to eat breakfast?
What’s the weirdest compliment you’d love to receive?
What song have you been playing on repeat?
How do you unwind when things get crazy?
What’s your love language?
Everyone carries invisible weight. My mom once told me, “Everyone has at least five things they’re dealing with that you don’t know about.” It’s worth remembering.
Immediate action rules the world. Notifications tug at our sleeves—this or that, update, decide now, move along. But we deserve more time. What if we let time stretch out, just a little? What if we let ourselves wander, unhurried, through the moments that make us smile?
So grab my hand. We can linger here a little longer.