I'm Major Jackson, and this is the slowdown.

It was one of those days.

My lower back ate from a poor night's sleep.

The kitchen sink clogged just before my morning commute.

I'd left a pen in one of my shirts and thus destroyed several garments in the watching machine.

A tense exchange with a co-worker about open-carry gun laws left me wondering about our friendship.

On top of that, I received a notice of rejection from a dream literary journal for a sheaf of poems that I submitted a year ago.

I was in a surly mood.

Though outside, it was wet and overcast from the day's earlier rainstorm,

I decided to go for a walk.

At an intersection awaiting the signal, a father checked his device while absent-mindedly

holding his daughter's hand. As if to test her little duck shoes, she jumped up and down in a puddle of

water and splashed his pants' legs. He put away his cell phone, then must her hair.

It appeared she was a kindergartner,

and he was picking her up from nearby Orchard Elementary School.

Her backpack was a Ghostbusters proton pack that was as big as she was.

I passed them and gave a broad smile to her.

She said hi, and I melted into a space of positivity.

I hurried back to work.

No matter my attitude or the kind of day I'm having, if I catch sight of certain things,

I am fortified, brought back to a state of joy, or at minimum, a state of calm.

These are my visual healing stones, a glittery mountain lake, my perfectly pressed dry cleaning, an early winter

...