The split second of the last sigh when I know they've drifted off and let go of the day. It is the most gorgeous moment. My heart swells and crashes and breaks and recedes as I stare at these little generous beings who have graced my life.
Drippy icicles.
Glittery snow. Glittery clothes. Glitter in general.
The very first sip of coffee every morning. That shit never gets old.
The urge to write - that visceral, embodied drive that tells me I have something to say. And that I *have* to say it or I will swallow myself whole.
The thinking and struggling and struggling to think. The thrill of being able to put it together.
The inhalation where I've caught my stride and I know I've got it covered and I can run anywhere and as long as I want.
Ankles wrapped around the pole and feeling the strength of me, imperfectly.
The peel of Girlio's laugh.
Clicky heels reverberating off of sidewalks, hard floors, school hallways. The way this sounds like power.
That part of the song thats tell me I have to dance, that there is no other choice but to move my body.
The sheer intensity of the ball of energy that is my Boy-o.
The comment of a classmate that is so fucking brilliant - not in a showy, name-droppy way - but in an 'I'm here searching, too' way.
Seeing a gorgeous, hard-edged femme and admiring that total sauce in the sway of her hips and the way she just works it, effortlessly.
Poetry.
Openness. Not in the absence of fear, but in fear and out of necessity, honesty, bravery.
The spark in a glance that goes nowhere, but momentarily everywhere.
Reading under a soft blanket and watching the snow fall.
Chai tea in the afternoon.
Old photographs.
Friends who remind me to eat.
Little bits of everyday love.
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