My hair the morning after a good shower: deliciously soft, mussed up, wavy, still damp in the back.
The sound of a man shaving with a non-electric razor: the scrape of blade against stubble, like light sandpaper.
Similarly, the sound of long hair being cut with scissors and the crispness of each snip.
When I am burrowed deep into my comforter in the early hours of the morning, before the "get out of bed" guilt has set in, and it is wrapped snugly and folded up around and against my back, the perfect amount of cushion, and somehow the extra padding against my spine makes me feel utterly safe and calm.
When I am trying to massage my own neck and I press on just the right knot and it sends delicious goosebumps down every inch of my skin.
The way I can listen to Future of Forestry and hear the nights in the fall of 2012, walking the lonely streets of suburban Stafford, or hear Jukebox the Ghost and be transported to wintery car rides with Grace senior year, or hear the acoustic version of Painting Roses and see the sunny back roads through a windshield when I go home on breaks and realize I missed being alone almost more than I did being with people.
The smell of cinnamon, anywhere, anytime, especially on top of coffee.
Picking up things with my toes
The way I can go for a walk and take the person that I am around every other person in the world and shed her like a jacket. There's a whole other Self hidden underneath that comes out to play, and I'm the only person she's met and we like it that way.
Poetry about air travel (as someone who's probably spent more of her life in airports than out of them, it feels like home)
When the little strand on the left side of my head curls by itself
Having the realization that an embarrassing love for something is actually just some adorably quirky part of me that I can be proud of instead
The sound of water boiling and the knowledge that my macaroni will be done soon
Concocting incredibly elaborate unrealistic movie scenes (starring myself) to the music of another film score and pretending that if that movie was made it would still have that exact music
Being in wide-open or high places during a storm that involves heavy rain without wind, accompanied by thunder and lighting, while listening to dramatic instrumental music
Surprising people I haven't seen in ages by being somewhere they don't expect me and the look on their face and the endless hugging that ensues
The little butt-wiggle that cats do before they pounce on something
Being carried without having to ask
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