The laughter of those I love huddled in claustrophobic space.
Truths told hidden by the intimacy of the fire, the baring of the soul absent self consciousness.
A day filled with trees and arduous exertion followed by home and big pillows and mattresses in which the body sinks, sinks, and finally floats.
Coffee.
Music which becomes love and passion and grief and tells the story of being.
Stories told with animation, lives which inspire my own, and daring deeds in uncertain times that impart courage, grit, resilience, and selflessness.
The embrace of your love and the careful wisdom you impart to my daily barrage of questions.
Snuggling.
The escape of the best stories, the relief in the expression and subsequent consumption of our shared humanity.
My disappearance near the ocean or in the midst of the forest as I remember that I, too, am just water and dust and the falling leaf in fall.
Finding myself here, next to you, eternally lost but ever comforted by the solace of your words, the closeness of your body, and the infinite minuscule moments which craft the very marrow of this life.
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