This freewrite is from a couple years ago, but it’s a great prompt to revisit again and again.

Prompt: The things I carry.
Time: 10 minutes.

I carry lists. Lists of what I need to do, of what I want to do, of what I should do. Lists of groceries, of songs to look up, of books to read. I carry the knowledge that my grandmother wrote lists, loved lists, carried her own lists, and this is perhaps why I look fondly on my compulsion to write things down and order them in some way accordingly. I carry stories of my grandmother—good stories, sad stories, stories we share. Stories of my whole family—some that have been told year after year, meal after meal, others that have rarely, if ever, been told. I carry emergency contact numbers and my blood donor card (A positive; the sticker says “active” even though I’ve only donated once)—just in case. In case something happens and a stranger needs to find out who I am, who to call. If I can’t tell the stranger myself. I carry things to hold—a rock, a trinket my mother gave me, a notebook. The notebook, for thoughts that I carry and wish to put down, on paper, in writing. Before they get lost along the way, like coins falling from a hole in my pocket or like that extra button whose thread has unraveled.