Well, for starters, schmaltzy movies like The Sound of Music in which Julie Andrews frolics in her nightgown, singing about schnitzel with noodles, while all the little Von Trapps gaze in adoration. And darn if she doesn’t win their hearts! And the Captain’s too!
The kids coming home for a visit.
The kids coming home for a visit without dirty laundry.
Every single sunlit, smoky-aired, colorful, majestic, melancholy day of autumn.
Cold pools. Hot showers.
Forests. Even the word forest.
Finding something I thought was lost. Even if it wasn’t something I missed or liked, its unexpected reappearance in itself is the delight. Oh, there you are!
How before some storms, rain or snow, the sky takes on an eerie glow and a hush falls over everything.
The first cup of coffee in the morning. Suddenly everything becomes clear.
A friend who, when I say "meet me at the place where we got that thing," and he/she knows exactly what I’m talking about.
An afternoon nap.
Books—everything about them. Their weight in my hand. The page between my fingers I simply must turn. The places they transport me to and the people I meet there.
The number nine.
Getting lost. Random discoveries. Because the two usually happen together.
Beer. Followed by a bag of potato chips that I reduce to dust. It can get ugly.
The fact that malls are dying and independent bookstores are reviving.
Trains. To anywhere.
Walking. To anywhere.
A rainy day when there is nowhere I have to be so I have time to think about all of my favorite things—the sound of rain on the roof being another one.