A warm cup of Ovaltine on a cold night, feet covered by warm socks, with my partner watching a cosy TV show before an early bedtime snuggled under the blankets.
A crackling fire and a shared bottle of weak, warm mulled cider – just enough for a buzz, nowhere near enough to cause any ill effects.
Knitting someone dear to me, a simple scarf or blanket. Each stitch warming my fingers, each row infused with love.
The smell of a clean house after a day of hard work, folding clothes, mopping, sweeping, and tidying.
A generous serving of something delicious – a favourite pasta, a large bowl of ramen, a steaming portion of stewed cinnamon apples with custard.
The sound of a willy wagtail happily hunting for bugs in the garden. The rustle of long grass in the wind.
The cluster of bees swirling around a flowering tree.
Pizza movie night.
A cold glass of fruit juice on a hot afternoon.
Sour cherries. In juice, in a pie, as a topping, in a jam. Sour cherries.
The crunchy part of the watermelon, right next to the rind. I actually like that bit.
The giggle of my child. Her eyes. Her smile. When she dances. When she sings. Her existence. The thought of her. Her being our love, manifested.
The softness of a toy you pick up.
A singular wind chime. Just one. Not too many.
The ticking sound of a clock.
A soy-wax candle with a particular scent. Sometimes it’s labelled as Tobacco and Whiskey and Vanilla and Leather. Sometimes it’s just labelled as ‘dream’ scented.
Wisterias and lilacs and gardenias and jasmines and orange jessamine.
I have a list of simple pleasures that I love to revisit. Perhaps someday I can share them, too.
DrMrsDr 