1. the smell of a store filled with books--
feeling justified in judging them by their covers--
skipping over the ones with photographs of
movie posters, emblazoned with the claim,
“NOW A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE!”
(somehow cheapening their literariness)--
thumbing through dog-eared pages and
opening crackling spines like
huge oak doors leading into both new
and familiar places
2. words
because of where they send my thoughts
“rain”--cozy, inside with the sound of thunder
rumbling softly across the horizon,
or on a run, fear of being drenched abandoned,
instead only the sound of my shoes splashing
through puddles and squelching through mud,
water running down my face.
“autumn”-- crisp mornings with the brightest
blue skies filled with leaves fluttering down
to the soft grass,
bright oranges and reds and
shocking yellows flashing on the landscape.
and “lavender”-- because of the way it sounds,
smooth, gentle, and comforting,
like a beloved childhood doll.
3. a hot cup of coffee before an
early morning ride
towards a long day.
the smell filling the car and giving me a
chance to breathe deeply and
calm down before the day launches into action.
4. sinking into bed at the end of the day.
bones, muscles, joints, bruises, thoughts,
and everything that ached, complicated, or confused
all settling down into much-needed rest.
5. waiting, anticipating, and holding sacred certain things--
kissing: for someone who truly matters.
Sunday: as a day of rest, quiet reflection, and worship.
and saying “I love you”: thought many times but
not spoken too hastily,
holding onto those three words tightly,
like a gift needing to be wrapped in
trust, companionship, and commitment
before being given.
stepping away from the world’s tendency to
make these anticipated things unimportant
and giving them their rightful place
in the realm of
what is meaningful
what lasts.
6. you.
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