When I arrive at the very last, dwindling minutes of the day, I stack my textbooks up high, postponing the work until the distant morning, flick off all my lights but the string of Christmas lights above my bed. And so, I slip between my warm sheets and anticipate the hours of still slumber that night always seems to bring.

In this precious moment on the cusp of sleep, I look around at the luminous glow of the lights, like so many fireflies pinned to the wall. They cast unexpected shadows and dim flickers that magic my room to a whole new world. It’s quiet. No one is brushing their teeth, or listening to music, no cell phones are beeping or keyboards tapping. There is nothing but a row of girls, silently sleeping.

Now, in the haze of this twilight land, neither waking nor sleeping, I let my mind drift through the day’s events. Through the mundane and the profound, I sift through it all. Classes, meals, mucking, conversations, serving, movies, laughter, packages, math problems, trails, sunshine, mint tea, outfits, to-do lists, lectures, smiles, hoof-picks, skirts, TOAD talks, playlists, grades, perfume, e-mails, Mr. Jensen, waffles, conjugations, Odysseus, watercolors, flip-flops, tests, hugs, lavender, listening, treat day, check-in, blow-dryers, best friends and good friends, and pretty good friends, and friends, and acquaintances, and nice people who you might have spoken to once, and the ones who you kind of smile at as you pass in the hall, and everyone who you’ve heard about once or twice but haven’t really seen, and then anyone else who you don’t really know exists, but would gladly smile at awkwardly in the hallway.

Anyways, my grand observation and the point of this meandering ToadBlog is this—the little kindnesses. That is what stands out amid the vivid swirl of the day.

So, today, this is what I remember…

I remember Molly made me a bagel…perfectly toasted with just the right amount of butter on top. I remember Katherine walked it down from the dining hall to Casa. I remember I smiled when I ate it—not because of the world-class butter spreading, but because of the kindness. I remember Mrs. McMahon’s encouraging words that melted away all my fears of graphing. I remember someone helped me clear dishes at formal dinner. I remember Hailey fed my horse for me because I was busy. I remember Mr. McGowan remembered my name at breakfast check-in. I remember the chocolate-chip cookies the dining hall made. I remember Mr. Sawyer picked up the pole I knocked down on horseback. I remember that wave someone gave me across the room.

That is why I love Thacher, because of the little kindnesses we share with each other everyday. It’s how we all make it through our busy schedules. It is the glue that holds the day together. Without these little gifts of kindness, I think community would be impossible.