Last night, I stood in my front yard, looking up. Through the black lace of branches, I saw stars. I traced a constellation, then another. It was a perfect thing – the earth, the tree, the deep midnight blue mystery, and the stars.
All around me are so many things that I love but don’t always notice. They’re like the colors sliding past in a kaleidoscope. Today, I’m taking a moment to focus the lens of my inward eye and see them in detail.
What makes me happy?
The textured plaster swirls on my living-room wall.
Raspberries picked from the prickly bush, still warm from afternoon sun.
The corgi mischief in my dog’s face when he glances back at me over his shoulder.
The touch of book pages on my fingers. Especially the old ones, thick and slightly stiff.
Good lettuce. Fresh, crisp, still tasting of the garden.
The clicking sound of rapid typing.
The scent of jasmine tea.
Lilacs in bloom. I will swerve off the sidewalk and sniff the blossoms in a stranger’s yard. I love lilacs.
Shoes that fit well.
Gazing out of windows. Almost any window. House window, classroom window, car window, office window. Windows!
Writing the whole story, all the way to the end.
Walled gardens. But it must be a proper garden – full of old-fashioned flowers, old trees, a bench or two, a fountain, winding paths – an a proper wall of moss-grown stones with a path along the top that you may run along to the village, if you choose.
Reading in bed, by lamplight.
My glasses! They are miraculous, I think. Eyes for my eyes.
Baking bread. I love it all – stirring, kneading, and the wonderful warm yeasty aroma of it baking and coming fresh from the hot oven. Crusty joy.
Warm water indoors, and summer rain outdoors. I love rain – the scent of it in the air, the sound of it on the roof, the shimmer, the way it soaks away into the thirsty earth.
Going to wash the dinner dishes when your hands are cold. See above, re: warm water.
Small friendly herbivores, wild or tame. I love little creatures with bright eyes and tiny paws.
Opening the box of author copies and holding my newly published books for the first time. This is an enchantment that will never grow old. Worlds within worlds, coming from imagination into being.
What makes you happy?