My best times are defined by small moments. I don’t require lots of activity or massive events. My most memorable times, and the things that make me happy years later, are small.

The gentle sound of water lapping on shore. The rustle of the wind through evergreens and aspens The hard, cool, smooth surface of an ancient lichen-mottled rock supporting my back.

The friendly bond among hikers — and the dawdlers, like me — and the genuine greetings shared along the trail. People willing to share information or a spot on a log or who will eat lunch with you. Is sharing nature what brings out the best in us? Or does nature beckon only those who embrace their shared human experience?

Solitary times with a book. Conversation with a lifelong friend. Renewed relationships — even a few ill feelings released, a step toward genuine forgiveness. Maybe small moments mean so much because they demand so little. They don’t require big expectations or pressure to perform or be any special way.

Small moments only call for quiet appreciation that cements them in memory, there to pull out and enjoy whenever you want.

A smile in your pocket.