What Lives In Me

A social media graphic I created. Artwork by Evon Zerbetz previously on display inside of Tatsuda's.

In February 2022, in the week leading up to the anniversary of the landslide, I needed something to do.

Something that didn’t revolve around the loss.

Something that didn’t center the rubble.

Or the grief.

Or the absence.

I needed to focus on the legacy.

So I created Tatsuda’s Community Kindness Week.

Not random acts of kindness.

Intentional ones.

Because there’s a difference.

Random is impulsive.

Intentional is chosen.

Each day of the week had a different focus.

Day Three was about being intentionally kind to cashiers, servers, baristas, and service workers.

Look them in the eye.

Use their name.

Ask them about their day.

Tip generously.

Slow down.

See the human being behind the counter.

I grew up behind a register.

I know what it feels like to be invisible.

And I know what it feels like to be truly seen.

At the time, I thought I was honoring the store.

And maybe I was.

Tatsuda’s was generous.

Consistent.

Rooted in integrity and care.

For over a century, it showed up for this town in quiet, steady ways.

But looking back?

Maybe I was honoring myself.

My values.

The way I believe community should work.

The way I lead.

The way I love.

Because Tatsuda’s didn’t create those values in me.

It reflected them.

The generosity.

The consistency.

The integrity.

The care.

That wasn’t just a business model.

That was me.

And maybe Kindness Week wasn’t about preserving a building that no longer stands.

Maybe it was about showing that what mattered most was never buried in the landslide.

It lives in me.