Little Things

I love the little things. Like natural light trickling through open blinds, or the way the painted sky calls me away, at least for a moment, nearly every morning and night. Books half read laying face down, waiting expectantly to be picked back up and adored again from the same page. I love getting lost in the delicate beauty of flowers or communing with wise old trees. I like lingering. In the forest. At the gardens. By the sea. Under the moon. Little things. Like the feeling of a forehead kiss from the wind, or the smell of sea salt in the air beckoning you to play. The sound of crickets at sunset and song birds bringing in the morning, like little audible blooms. Little things. Like forgetting the time. Or losing the path. Or remembering to breathe. The truth is, I just don’t do well when surrounded by the big and bright and loud, because I find so much more joy, such immensity, in all these countless little things.

©️ Cristen Writes