Little Things

Sometimes it’s the sun steadily, but lazily warming your skin. It’s the earthy pleasure of fresh ground coffee and the effects of that 2nd cup at just about 2 in the afternoon. It’s flip flops with toes a fresh shade of walnut. It’s┬áthe contentment of turning that last crisp page. It’s watching shadows crawl across your skin as the sun dances in and out of the clouds.

It’s the sensation of butterflies that you didn’t see coming, but despite their chronic unpredictability you can somehow look forward to them nonetheless. It’s a true and unbelievable story following by synchronous laughter and wink that feels close and familiar. It’s anticipation and hesitation and a sense of hope and foreboding.

It’s the hug that melts away anxiety and the treasured words that absolve tension. It’s thoughtful prep work and setting delayed brew while singing old Folger’s commercials. It’s late nights and shared looks and interlocked pinkies and contagious laughter.

It’s blades of grass peeking between toes and tickling fat feet. It’s nibbling on iced, pumpkin-shaped cookies in the shade on a warm September day. It’s little hands that won’t be pudgy forever and an infectious smile of merely two and a half teeth. It’s giggles and unruly curls and a sticky chin with crumbs everywhere.

It’s short-lived moments and small details that magnify connections and love and life. Sometimes it’s the little things that make everything else worth anything at all.