I had gotten this book (How to Be an Explorer of the World) a few months ago, tucked it away for a better day and found it again (on what must be that better day).
Ten things about where I'm sitting right now that I hadn't noticed when I sat down.
- The speckled brown and yellow leaf on the tree outside, dead.
- The sound and feel of air moving through the house with all its windows open is soothing, almost impossibly too beautiful.
- The sound of water running in the sink.
- How anticipation feels like wind through the trees.
- Late day light and the pattern it makes of the window pane on the shade.
- A cricket sounding, an insistent repetition running beneath these thoughts.
- The smoothness of the round oak table where I am sitting.
- The sound of keys pressing on a laptop and the hardness of the chair beneath me.
- The comfort of repetition: ice cubes being dropped, as if they were on a conveyor belt, one after another after another.
- The inevitable whining drone of a weekend warrior bringing tameness to a lawn.