Dear Somebody: The perfect day.

A year from now, here are five things from this week that I'd like to remember:

MONDAY

In my column Being for Issue #69 of Uppercase Magazine, I walked readers through a tiny book project I aim to complete annually. It’s based on sociologist Martha Beck’s Perfect Day exercise where one imagines their perfect day 10 years from now.

An excerpt from my essay reads:

“For as long as I can remember, “artist” defined my identity. It’s how I differentiated myself from others and gave my life value. It is my work that has imbued me with a sense of self-worth—a dangerous relationship, especially as I struggled to step into the roles of partner and mother. Rather than integrating my creativity into both roles, I fought to keep them separate. I was an artist and a partner and a mother—each treated as isolated entities within myself. This created a stressful hierarchy in which the separate parts of who I was competed for my attention. I wasn’t able to be present in each role. I couldn’t sink into the fullness of this season, and the bulk of each day felt overwhelming, lonely and scarce.

In talking about his own life, David Lynch said, “If you’re transcending every day, building up that happiness, it eventually comes to: it doesn’t matter what your work is. You just get happy in the work. You get happy in the little things and the big things. And if the result isn’t what you dreamed of, it doesn’t kill you, if you enjoyed the doing of it. It’s important that we enjoy the doing of our life.”

Reading Lynch’s words made me realize that I needed a change: I wanted to enjoy the doing of my life. The sketches, the inky mistakes, the countless reworked endings; the tantrums, bathtimes and tiny laughter; the miscommunications, cold feet and tangled limbs. I wanted to create a large shift, one that would transform the way I thought about myself, my work and the future unfolding in front of me—one that would then ripple through the choices I was making in my everyday life.”

—from The Perfect Day: An Exercise in Self-Discovery for Issue 69 of Uppercase Magazine. *Please grab an copy of this gorgeous issue to read the full essay, which includes a tutorial on creating your own tiny book based on my version of the Perfect Day exercise.

TUESDAY

I watched this preview of the PBS series on Mary Oliver’s life and work (Mary Oliver: Saved by the Beauty of the World) and felt confused by the way it created a Mary The Person vs. Mary The Poet hierarchy: Aren’t we all more than the face(s) that appear in our craft? Aren’t we all in possession of several dozen selves, some that will never speak, some that we’ll never manage to speak to?

WEDNESDAY

Every evening, the sun forgets to slink down towards the other side and the heat threatens to linger forever. Every evening, the day is done and the showers are quick and the limbs are long and getting longer, longer. Every evening, I threaten an earlier bedtime if my little bodies don’t move faster—but F, in her birthday suit, closes her eyes and smiles her big smile and spins to the music living inside her own head.

THURSDAY

I pre-ordered Ankur Thakkar’s debut novel, Blow Yourself Up. A thoughtful and intentional writer, I know Ankur’s written and rewritten this book to his own satisfaction, which isn’t easily reached, and I can’t wait to see which direction it’s taken.

I finished Us Against You, the second in Fredrik Bachman’s Beartown series about a small town built around a high school hockey team. I’m making myself wait until I pick up and devour the third book.

I read Beautiful Boy by David Sheff, a heartbreaking autobiographical novel about Sheff’s experience raising his methamphetamine-addicted son.

I read Complications by Atul Gawande, which examines the fallibility and limitations of doctors working in modern medicine. I also wrote about Being Mortal, a previous work of Gawande’s that I read and enjoyed, in a past letter.

I zipped through Men Like Ours by Bindu Bansinath, which is equally parts hilarious and disturbing, about an immigrant family caught in community drama in suburban New Jersey. The fact that I recognized locations and familiar family dynamics added to my reading pleasure.

—July by Linda Pastan

• Dear Somebody: On This Side of the Lake (July 25, 2025)

Of all the things you can put in front of your eyes, I’m grateful that my little letter is one of them.

If you enjoy these letters, you’ll find a home in my books and journals. My art prints and line of greeting cards make excellent gifts for yourself or a friend. You can also hire me for your next project—I’d love to work together.

xx,
M