I used to think that good was the enemy of great—an acceptance that you couldn’t or didn’t want to make something better, that you had grown weary of trying and had given up. In your resignation, your half-hearted admission of defeat, you somehow convinced yourself that it really was good enough, not great, but good enough, and that, in itself meant it wasn’t really that bad, not bad at all, maybe even good, just good enough to be perfectly good.
Perfectly good celebrates the simplicity of the ordinary: unadorned, unencumbered, and virtuous. Stripped away of all pretense, it has the promise of an empty room, freshly painted, the hope of the first spring rain, and the familiarity and comfort of an old sweater.
Perfectly good is the sound of popcorn kernels ricocheting against a blackened pot, knowing that you will happily be smuggling it into the movie theatre. It is the clanking of a knife in a jar of peanut butter, and then wiping it off on the other slice before dipping it into the jar of jam, pretending that you weren’t the one that smeared the peanut butter into the jam jar. It is a glass of milk, well, just because. It is eating a bowl of yogurt and stone fruit every day for lunch and still looking forward to having it again the next day. It is a bowl of warm oatmeal with a sprinkle of cinnamon. It is rice and beans because they are the best of dance partners. It is taking leftover pasta out of the refrigerator and eating it while waltzing around the kitchen singing the lyrics to one of the stupidest top 40 songs because it has been residing in your brain for days and doesn’t everyone do this when they think no one is watching? It is a supper of scrambled eggs on a roll with just enough ketchup to celebrate one of your guilty pleasures of childhood. It is a handful of walnuts and cranberries to keep away the demons of hunger. It is a salad of tomatoes and avocados with just a touch of salt. It is cheese melting in a tortilla, no salsa, no jalapeños, just cheese pulling away from the tortilla and while you’re eating that one, you throw down the next one, because you know that it tastes good, good enough to be perfectly good.
What do you find that is good enough to be perfectly good?