trillion wishesa paper deck of things to say
Random Favorites JUN 2026 8 Calendar
Fresh today · Monday, 8 June

New Wishes

A handful of wishes pulled from the cabinet this morning. Pick one up — copy, save it to your pinboard, or send it on.

Drawn at dawn
Wishes in the library
92,976

You raised the standard for what 'colleague' is supposed to mean around here.

Wishing you long lunches, slow mornings, and a calendar with nothing red on it.

You handled corporate chaos like someone who'd seen worse and remained unimpressed.

Thanks for being the institutional memory we all relied on but rarely acknowledged.

You leave behind work that holds up and a team that knows exactly why they liked you.

May the next chapter pay you back in time what this one took in attention.

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What are we writing today?

Cabinets sorted by occasion. Open one — pages are arranged by warmth, not algorithm.

More from today

You made collaboration feel like the actual word, not a polite version of doing all the work.

Wishing you the retirement of someone who earned every quiet minute of it.

Thanks for the patience with new hires and the candor with leadership — both equally rare.

You set the tone for the team in ways the org chart never quite captured.

The hallway feels longer already — fewer good conversations to slow it down.

Wishing you mornings free of dashboards and evenings free of after-hours emails.

You proved that being good at your job and being decent are not a trade-off — thank you.

Thanks for the steady example across years that needed exactly that.

You leave colleagues who remember your kindness more clearly than any of your deliverables.

May your hobbies grow obsessive and your obligations shrink to almost nothing.

Wishing you days that don't need explaining and weeks that don't require recovery.

You handled the difficult years without becoming a difficult person — no small feat.

Thanks for being proof that good colleagues exist — they're just retiring more often these days.

Enjoy the quiet — you earned it across every project this place ever threw at you.

Your messages arrived like sunlight through hospital blinds — small, warm, exactly what I needed that morning.

Thank you for the texts I read between naps and the calls I answered with half a voice.

Every kind word stacked up somewhere quieter than pain, and slowly the stack grew taller than it.

I kept your card on the side table — proof that strangers and friends were rooting for the same thing.

Your wishes did the heavy lifting on days when even reaching for water felt like a long errand.