Prompt: Write about a time you changed your mind.
Okay, so the most heartwarming thing happened to me today, and it ties in nicely with today’s prompt, “Write about a time you’ve changed your mind.” Today is July 11th, 2026.
We were coming back from an engagement party, and we were both quite tired, so we decided to order a pizza.
When the delivery driver arrived, he called us instead of just knocking on the door and running away or ringing the doorbell and bouncing. He waited for us to get to the door so he could hand us the pizza.
My wife answered the door, and he asked how my hand was doing.
He remembered from the last time he delivered a pizza—maybe more than a month ago—that I’d hurt my hand. He asked how it was healing, and I was just so touched by that.
It connects to today’s prompt because I often think, especially since moving to Toronto, that people forget about you. Unless you’re memorable in some favourable way, unless you can do something for them, I assume they’re not really going to remember you.
Thinking back, I don’t actually know why I have that perception, but I do.
For somebody to remember that detail about me—especially someone like a delivery driver who’s constantly busy, driving around the city all day—that really changed my mind about how people perceive me.
Last week, coming back from swimming lessons, we also ran into a couple who live around the corner from us. We live in a complex, so there are a lot of people, and they recognized us. I was honestly surprised that somebody I don’t even remember seeing remembered me.
I think that’s changed my mind a little about how I move through the world—or maybe how we should move through the world.
Instead of assuming people don’t notice us or don’t care that we’re there, maybe the truth is that there are people—not everybody, of course—but there are people who do remember us, who do care.
And they care for no reason other than simply to care.
That’s a really genuine and humbling thing to come across.
Even if he’d remembered my hand, the pizza driver didn’t have to ask about it. That’s what made the moment so meaningful.
We don’t always know what other people notice. I think I’ve said this before, but what we assume other people think about us—or how we think we’re being perceived—isn’t always accurate.
Even though I still find Toronto unnecessarily gritty and, at times, almost unnaturally tough, there are people here with real concern, care, and empathy. There are people looking at the world in a much more beautiful way than I’ve been looking at it.
And that’s a fantastic thing.
Right on.
You can find this prompt, and many more, at Letters Lounge: www.letterslounge.com.
I’d love to hear your thoughts on this one—or any of the others. Please, change my mind. Leave a comment, or a link to your own blog or audio journal, and I’ll be sure to check it out.
Alright, folks. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
This transcript was lightly cleaned up with the help of AI to improve readability while preserving the original voice and intent of the recording.
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