A dust mote caught in a ray of sunshine.
A yellow wildflower in a sea of crumpled autumn leaves.
The look of fierce concentration that consumes Gabriel's face when he's building or drawing: the way his tongue pokes out of the side of his mouth, the particular furrow of his eyebrows.
A hot cup of coffee warming my hands on a chilly October morning.
Reading something that genuinely makes me laugh out loud.
The tingly prickly too hot feeling when I first sink into the bathtub.
Taking my hair down at the end of the day.
Breathing in the little kid smells of dust and finger paint and juice and grass and maybe a little bit of pixie dust.
The first sip from a first glass of wine.
My fingers all smudged with oil pastels.
Laying in bed thinking about the latest book I read.
Finding the perfect gift.
Resting my forehead on the cool of the sliding glass door.
Finding a pressed flower in a book.
The sound of cutting paper.
The perfect sweetness of a quiet hug.
The absolute silence of a power outage.
That first stretch when I wake up from a completely frivolous nap.