Trace

Some words stay with me longer than others. This week, it was trace. A word that suggests something faint but undeniable. A fingerprint on glass. A scent in the air. A feeling that returns without warning.

Writing Five Words Deep has made me more attuned to these subtle remnants. The way a song can pull you back into a moment you thought you’d forgotten. The way a phrase someone once said still echoes in your mind, years later. The way a place can feel familiar even if you’ve never been.

There’s a kind of intimacy in traces. They remind us that something—or someone—was here. That they mattered. That they left something behind, even if it wasn’t meant to last.

I think we all leave traces. In conversations, in choices, in the way we show up for others. And maybe the most meaningful ones aren’t loud or lasting. Maybe they’re the ones that linger quietly, shaping us in ways we don’t always see.