These are the reasons.

I have a small, scruffy terrier named Clementine who is too old to walk far. So I bought a basket for the front of my bike, and now she rides with me everywhere.

My daughter's first ballet recital took place in an elementary school gym with folding chairs, a basketball hoop folded up against the ceiling and a stage made of plywood risers.

Every morning at seven, two identical old women walk the boardwalk in our beach town, arm in arm, wearing matching tracksuits in different colors. Today it was lavender and mint green.

Every year, my daughter asks for blackberry cobbler instead of birthday cake. Every year, the day before, we pick wild blackberries along the old rail trail behind our town, and every year, she eats more berries off the brambles than she puts in her bucket.

My older brother joined a barbershop quartet at fifty-five. He's an insurance agent. He had never sung in public in his life.

I work at a fast-food place, and on the hottest day of July, the soft-serve machine broke. If you've ever worked fast food, you know this is a disaster.

In fourth grade I was the quiet kid who sat in the back and drew in the margins of my worksheets. Most teachers told me to pay attention. Mrs. Okafor asked to see my drawings.

On a trip to Alaska with my best friend, Tamar, we went sea kayaking in a quiet bay near Juneau. Our guide promised nothing. "The whales do what they want," she said.

The bodega on my corner in Harlem has a cat named Chulo who sleeps on the bread shelf and is, by most accounts, the mayor of the block.

Every Tuesday in summer, a man named Mr. Osei drives an old pickup truck full of fruit through our neighborhood, ringing a bell. He sells watermelons, peaches, cherries and corn from his family's farm two hours away.

My son's first science fair project was a baking soda volcano. Every family does it at some point. We were proud to join the tradition.

On my first trip to Spain, I stayed in a small guesthouse in Valencia run by a family. On Sunday, they invited me to a family paella on the beach.

Every Thanksgiving, after dinner, my family holds a talent show in my aunt's living room. It's been happening since 1994. Participation is mandatory.

My father makes the best jollof rice in the world. This is not an opinion. It is a fact that our entire extended family agrees on, which never happens.

My grandmother lives in a tiny city apartment with no yard, but she has the most beautiful garden I've ever seen. It's in her bathtub.

Every morning, outside the big construction site downtown, a woman named Fatou runs a coffee cart. She's there at five a.m., when the first crews arrive, with coffee, breakfast sandwiches and a huge smile.

On the last bus home from the city on New Year's Eve, around one a.m., the bus was packed with tired people in party hats and glittery dresses. Someone in the back started singing "Auld Lang Syne."

My dad is a retired carpenter. This spring, I asked him to help me build a little free library for my front yard. He was more excited than I was.

The schools closed, the roads closed, and my office closed. For the first time in years, our whole family was home on a weekday with nowhere to be.