The Simple Things

Rain on a tin roof, chilled wine on a hot day, the crackle and spit of an open fire.

The feel of the breeze on my face when a cool change arrives.

Breaking the water’s skin for that first swim of summer.

The sting in my cheeks on a frosty morning;

A child’s hand in mine when I cross the street.

The simple things.

Newspaper print on my fingers, passionfruit pulp, toast in the morning and barefeet on a cold floor.

Barefeet in the sand, barefeet dipped in water on the pool’s edge, barefeet next to another’s in bed.

A hot shower.

A burning candle.

A good book.

The simple things.

My song of the moment, full boar on the stereo.

A ladybird perched on the end of my finger;

Holding hands; a touch on the small of my back;

You.

A love letter from my kids;

A fish on the end of the line; rock-salt caramel ice-cream; sushi.

A smell, a taste, of somewhere else, somewhere new. Memories.

Autumn leaves, popcorn at the movies, a view from a mountain peak.

Hot chips anytime, anywhere; the smell of the ocean; birds at dawn; a rose.

Fridays.

So many of them, those simple things. They keep me going.