First kisses
Perfectly cooked crispy bacon
Being brought coffee in bed
My kitty, purring
The scent of freshly cut grass without the noise of the mower/blower
Twittering finches
Babbling brooks
The warmth of the sun on my back
The air when I drive by the cookie factory
Fresh rain on dusty blacktop
Crescent moons on clear, chilly nights
Spooning in the dawn hours
The sound of my pencil on paper
Nutella, spooned straight from the jar
Crackling fires in Autumn
Being loved – despite all my faults
7 am Saturday morning – when I realize I have hours more to sleep
A new haircut
Holding hands
Spaetzle, fried crisp in butter
Nonsensical conversations in bed
Lindor Milk Chocolate Truffles
Napping to the sound of the washing machine
The very last center bite of buttery cinnamon sugar toast
Watering the backyard, barefoot, on a warm summer evening
Wind chimes in a gentle breeze
Sun-warmed tomatoes, straight from the vine
Tag Archives: sleep
Wrapped
Last weekend, in our chilly cabin in the woods, he would not let go of me as he slept. We haven’t been so entwined since our first few nights together. And back then, it was me (and not he) so wrapped (or rapt?). His arm behind my head, his leg thrown over my thighs, a hand entwined, warm breath on my neck, I felt safe and wanted.
I woke to a bad dream this morning – a dream that left me rattled. I needed those arms, that leg, his hand, his kiss of breath to soothe me, but my bed was empty. I settled on a walk through the neighborhood to clear my head. It helped just a little.
This dream has not left me, yet I’m afraid to say, “I need you tonight”, afraid to have him see me needy. So I will wait until tomorrow, our usual night together, and wrap myself around him tighter still.