If sleep is a country, I want to meet you at its border and walk in together.
Fresh today · Thursday, 2 July
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.
The pillow keeps the shape of where you laughed today; goodnight, I am keeping it too.
May the dark be kind to you tonight, and may I be the first thing kind tomorrow.
I'm not asking for dreams — just for the small clock of your breathing to keep good time.
Goodnight; somewhere between your last thought and sleep, leave a little room for me.
Whatever you are carrying into the night, set it down — I'll pick it up at sunrise.
↑ pick one up
Browse by occasion
What are we writing today?
Cabinets sorted by occasion. Open one — pages are arranged by warmth, not algorithm.
- Anniversary
- Baby
- Belated
- Best
- Birthday
- Boy
- Boyfriend
- Christian
- Christmas
- Congratulation
- Diwali
- Easter
- Eid Mubarak
- Engagement
- Farewell
- Fathers Day
- Friendship
- Funny
- Get Well
- Girl
- Girlfriend
- Good Morning
- Good Night
- Graduation
- Hanukkah
- Heart Touching
- Holiday
- Invitation
- Job
- Love
- Miss You
- Mothers Day
- New Year
- Recovery
- Retirement
- Romantic
- Thank You
- Thanksgiving
- Wedding
- Well
- Women's Day
- Sympathy
- Valentine's Day
- Halloween
- Veterans Day
More from today
I love you in the slow way — the way lamps love rooms, steady, unhurried, on until morning.
Sleep gently, love. The day was loud; let me be the quietest thing you remember from it.
If you wake in the dark, I am the message your phone hasn't sent yet — already written.
Goodnight — the moon is doing my job badly tonight, so I am sending words instead.
Rest your head as if I were under it; rest your worries as if I were holding them.
I'd trade my insomnia for your easy sleep, but only if you promised to dream of me.
Goodnight, my favorite habit; goodnight, my best argument for tomorrow.
May your last thought be small and warm — a coffee cup, my hand, anything ordinary and ours.
I'm folding the day in half and putting your name on the inside crease.
Sleep, love — and if the dark gets crowded, lean toward the side where I'm waiting.
Goodnight; I'll keep the porch light of my thoughts on, in case yours wander back.
Tonight I am loving you quietly, the way a house loves the people sleeping in it.
If dreams need a witness, I volunteer — wake me anytime, tell me everything.
Goodnight — the sheets are cool, the night is long, and somehow you are still close.
I want your sleep to be a soft argument against everything that troubled you today.
Lay down whatever you were carrying. I have arms left over and a long night to use them.
Goodnight, love — may you sleep the way you laugh: easily, fully, and right in the middle of things.
I am writing this with the light off, which is how I know it's true.
Sleep deeply enough that morning has to introduce itself politely when it arrives.