Sometimes, the things we cherish most don’t dazzle us with sparkle or shout for attention. They aren’t the newest gadgets, the brightest colors, or the loudest voices in the room. Instead, they quietly anchor us in comfort, memory, and simple joy.
Take Brooke Barker’s dog, for instance. She describes her furry companion not as the most energetic or the most affectionate, but as the best kind of dog—not flashy, just quietly wonderful. Brooke’s reflection feels like a gentle reminder: the best things in life don’t have to be the jumpiest or the lickiest.
Brooke also has a thing for old ballpoint pens. She swears there are only about five really good ones in the whole world, and they all come with a bit of history—used, worn, loved over time. Her favorite shirt? It’s not some trendy new top, but the one she wore when playing rec soccer in fourth grade. That shirt carries stories, memories, and a feeling that no brand-new garment can match.
This idea—that the value of things isn’t in their flashiness but in their meaning—resonates deeply. Think about your own life. The novels you reach for when you want comfort are probably well-loved and dog-eared, filled with pages you know by heart. Maybe, like me, you find a quiet kind of happiness in a simple bowl of Cheerios when you’re eating alone—not because it’s fancy or new, but because it feels just right.
In our home, one of the things I treasure most isn’t something you can buy or polish. It’s the living room windows, covered with the tiny handprints of our children. Those smudges, imperfect and ever-changing, hold a lifetime of memories—the messy, joyful traces of childhood that no crystal ornament could ever replace.
This question—What not-flashy things do you love?—brings to mind a poem by Kate Baer called Invitation. It’s a beautiful meditation on the quiet treasures in life, the things that hold meaning beyond their surface. Baer’s words remind us that sometimes the most profound joys are subtle, easily overlooked unless we pause to notice.
Maybe it’s a worn-out sweater that smells faintly of home. Maybe it’s the familiar creak of the floorboards under your feet or the sound of your favorite song played softly in the background. Maybe it’s the worn leather of a journal filled with your thoughts, or the simple comfort of a well-used mug in your hand.
In a world that often celebrates the loud and the new, it’s important to remember the value of the steady and the timeworn. Our deepest attachments are rarely to the flashy or the fleeting. They’re to the things that have quietly stood beside us—things that carry our stories, our loves, and our everyday moments.
So, what not-flashy things do you treasure? The question invites us to slow down and appreciate the understated beauty in our lives. These are the things that don’t just decorate our days—they enrich them.
