Pleasures

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

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Bed

The last guy I dated, I couldn’t sleep next to him.  After sex, I’d doze for a bit, perhaps, but in the end, I’d find myself crawling from his arms to sleep on the couch.  I’d always find my way back between the sheets in the early dawn.  The real sleep, the vulnerable hours of my deepest dreaming, was spent elsewhere, away from him. On our vacation, I spent the dead of night in the bedroom next door. At the time,  I thought this was an ultimate consequence of a life spent in a single girl’s bed, the final straw.

But my new guy, I sleep with him just fine.  He’s worried that his snoring keeps me awake.  I assure him that his rhythmic breathing doesn’t bother me at all – and it really doesn’t.  That’s not snoring. I’m glad I own my tiny queen bed – no room for us to separate. I smile when he spoons me, feeling his warmth along my back.  I need his hand on my hip or my foot on his calf, a gentle reminder that he is there, and I sleep soundly, completely.