The Gift of a Simple Hello: Why the Small Moments Matter Most

In this heartfelt episode of Making Memoir Magic, Kerry reflects on a simple ritual: walking her dog Christie through her neighborhood each morning and pausing to say hello.

Those two words—a greeting, a moment of recognition, a brief conversation—become a reminder of something many of us are missing in a world of distractions and screens: the gift of truly seeing one another.

Through stories about neighborhood dogs, a retired teacher who remembers the details of her life, and a powerful lesson about fear and perception, Kerry explores how connection is built not only through extraordinary events, but through ordinary moments of attention.

And for memoir writers, that may be the greatest lesson of all.

Our stories are not only found in the dramatic turning points.

They are found in the morning walks.

The familiar faces.

The conversations we almost didn't have.

The moments we almost overlooked.

In this episode, you'll discover:

•  Why a simple hello can be an act of connection 
•  How fear can shape the way we see the world 
•  Why the smallest memories often hold the greatest meaning 
•  The concept of "threshold moments" and how they can become powerful memoir scenes 
•  A writing prompt to uncover the ordinary moments worth preserving 

Writing Prompt:

Take ten minutes today and write about a small interaction you still remember.

Who was there?

What was said?

Why do you think that moment stayed with you?

You may discover that what seemed insignificant was actually shaping your story all along.

Thank you for listening to this episode of Making Memoir Magic. To learn more about my course, Make Memoir Magic, click here. 

Join my free Facebook Group, Memoir Magic for Aspiring Authors, where we honor your story, provide tips, create community, and help you write the story you were meant to tell. Join here!

Transcript

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Welcome to Making Memoir Magic, the podcast where we unlock the power of your story and guide you through the magical process of turning life experiences into memoirs that inspire and impact. I'm your host, Carrie Chrysler, a memoir mentor and storytelling champion. And I'm here to help you find the courage to embrace your unique story and share it with the world. Whether you're just starting out or refining your final draft, this is the place to be for practical tips, inspiration, and the encouragement you need to write the memoir only you can tell. Ready to make some magic? Let's dive in. Every morning I walk the same neighborhood route with my dog Christy. Usually I have my phone in my right hand, an audiobook plane, and her leash in my left. It's a familiar, comfortable rhythm. It's almost automatic until it isn't. Because the moment I see someone approaching, I pause, not dramatically, not intentionally, just enough to come back into the world. And then I say, good morning. Two simple words. Sometimes I wave, sometimes nothing more than a nod. But I've started to notice that those two words and that interaction carries more weight than they should. Or maybe more accurately, they carry the exact weight they're supposed to. Christy knows the neighborhood better than I do. She has her own social calendar, and she knows when that she sees Lula and her mom, she sits immediately because she knows that a treat is coming. And she's not above an occasional negotiation to try to get more than one out of her mom. So, and then one from me, because I always have them. And then there's Murph, the beautiful red golden retriever, and his mom, Connie, who always seemed to also have a snack at just the right moment. And sometimes I run into my neighbor Tom. He's a retired teacher, former swim coach, and his 100-pound Labrador, Henry. I remember when Henry was younger, full of chaos, enthusiasm, and questionable steering skills. I used to wonder if Tom would ever stay upright during their walks. I was afraid he'd get pulled over, but now that Henry's five, he is steadier and more grounded. So whenever we pass their yard, Christy usually makes the decision for me. We have to stop. She pulls me right over to Tom's fence. He and I talk. He asks about my kids. He asks about the puppies we've raised who went off to guide dog training. And he remembers the details. And that's the thing that stays with me. So maybe on this podcast, you've been used to uh really teaching moments. And I do try to teach, I try to use this time that we have together while you're listening to me to teach you about writing and about memoir, and um give you some tips and tricks and things that I've learned that can hopefully make it easier for you to write your memoir. But sometimes what we learn isn't always packaged as a lesson or um five ways to do this or how to beat writer's block or something like that. Sometimes it's packaged in the everyday, like when Tom, for example, remembers certain things about me. Um, and sometimes I don't think that we talk enough about how powerful that is. Not the grand gestures that we'll remember for the rest of our lives, but just the simple act of remembering. In a world where so much of our communication happens through screens, and I'm guilty of that for sure. I've noticed something more subtle. Some people still look up when you pass them, and some don't. It isn't always unkindness, at least I don't think it is. It feels more like a habit, like we've learned to live slightly inward with our headphones in, our eyes down, our thoughts elsewhere. And I'll be honest, I sometimes do it too. I always walk with an audiobook playing, or sometimes a podcast. So I'm not exempt from the world that I'm describing, but I've also noticed what happens when I pause it, when I look up, when I say hello, something small shifts. All right. And lately, in this world of increased disconnectedness and difficulty for so many, I've been thinking about why this matters so much more right now, in this moment. Um, another story for you. Last Friday evening, I watched my sister-in-law deliver a sermon at her synagogue. Um, she's in Atlanta, I'm here in Florida, and I was watching via the live stream, and she spoke about that week's Torah portion, which reflected on fear and how it can distort what we see and how it can also reshape possibilities. So the story was about how the Israelites were looking toward a new land, seeing obstacles, and believing that they couldn't move forward. The land didn't change, they did. Their perception did. And that got me thinking about things that are fixed and things that we have control of and can change and impact. Because in small ways, we can do something big as grand and as big and grand as those Israelites did navigating that land and overcoming that fear. We decide what a moment is before we have fully entered it, and that's sometimes when fear can creep in. Sometimes we decide who someone is before we've even looked up, or we decide for ourselves whether a connection is even possible before we've said one word. And I understand fear, I understand it more than I wish I did, because there were years when my husband was mayor, and more often than I like, there were unfamiliar cars that would just park outside our home. And it um set off alarms inside of me and in our family. Um, and sometimes it would prompt a police presence that would last for days. So even now, I still bristle when I see something out of place or seemingly out of place near our street or across the small lake where I walk. But here's what I've learned about myself in those years, and it's been at least six, seven years since that has happened. I didn't stop walking, I didn't stop saying hello, I didn't stop choosing to stay visible in my own life. Even when fear wanted to whisper something else and make me want to retreat and become untrusting, I did something else. And I think that is where memoir lives. So maybe you've been listening and wondering, what is she getting at this week? How does this have to do with memoir? This is how it has to do with memoir. So stay with me a little longer, and I'm going to fully close the loop and help you realize um what the power of a simple hello and overcoming fears has to do with writing your memoir. Okay. So where memoir lives is without fear, okay? Because it can be fearful to want to navigate our life and then share it on paper, the difficult parts, the hard parts, the emotional parts. So we have to learn how to move through it. And if you're listening to this because you want to write your memoir, I want to say something clearly. Your story is not only made up of the big turning points, the beginnings, the endings, the before and after moments. It's made up of what happens in between. The walks, the repeated routes, the familiar faces, the small exchanges that seem insignificant until you look back and realize they weren't. So there's a term that I sometimes use with writers, and that's called threshold moments. Those are tiny points of contact where something shifts just slightly. Like maybe it could be a hello, a pause, a glance, a conversation you almost didn't have with someone. And those can be points where memoir begins, not in all the drama, but in paying too attention to the important, um, smaller moments, all right, that that stay with you. And it's your job to make sense of why they're staying with you and how they changed you and connecting the dots between all of that. But so this week I've been thinking about something really simple, all right. I have been asking myself, and I want you to ask yourself, what changes when we decide to look up? What changes when we say hello? What changes when we allow ourselves to be slightly more present than we were yesterday? Because I think the answer is more than we expect. We don't need to transform our lives to feel connected, we don't need perfect relationships or deep history with everyone we meet. Sometimes all we need is a willingness to acknowledge another human being in passing, wave to your neighbor, have a conversation over a fence, uh find out the dog's name, okay? Uh talk to your neighbors, let your dogs become friends, give another dog a treat, let your dog get one. These are the small things, but they're things that matter, and they remind us of something essential. It reminds us that we are seen and we are still capable of seeing each other. And if you're writing your memoir, maybe that is where you begin this week. Not with the biggest story that you can remember, but with the smallest moment that you might have almost overlooked. So that's where uh your memoir can start this week. And that is my challenge to you to start noticing what is happening around you. Say hello if it's not in your nature, spark a conversation, see where it goes, see how it contributes to your story, the one that you are going to tell through your memoir. And as always, keep writing, keep believing in your story, and keep making memoir magic. Thank you for joining me on this episode of Making Memoir Magic. I hope today's conversation inspired you to take the next step toward telling your unique story through memoir. Remember, your story matters and someone out there is waiting to read it. If you enjoyed today's episode, don't forget to subscribe and leave a review. It helps others find the show. You can also connect with me on my website at carryCreisman.com, on Instagram at carry. You'll get more tips and inspiration on your memoir journey. And each Wednesday, I host a memoir magic writing where you get to join other writers to accomplish the often arduous task of getting words on the page. Until next time, keep writing, keep sharing, and keep making memoir magic.