The good thing that happened quietly still deserves a place in how you remember the day.

Memory is not a fair recorder. Difficulty arrives with volume and repeats itself, while the good parts of a day tend to be brief and quiet: a decent conversation, a problem that did not happen, ten minutes of sun. If you only count what shouted, you end up with an account of your life that is precise about the friction and silent about everything else.

At some point tonight, name one small good thing that would otherwise vanish by morning. You are not arguing with the hard parts. You are letting the quiet parts be entered into the record too.