Bright sunshine. Nipping cold at my nose. Black boots on cobblestone sidewalks, a bustling market.
A dinner that satisfies, children chasing seagulls. Music from childhood.
The best coffee I’ve had in weeks, a cute barista who hands it to me with a joke. (Which is funny even if I can’t bring myself to laugh openly). The warm feeling that goes all the way to your tummy when you sip.
Singing along to music in the car. Winding mountain roads. Bright green trees interspersed with warm fall leaves. Sunset at a lookout; a tree divides the sunset sky over the ocean from the sparkling lights of the city.
We watch the world get darker and the lights get brighter.
A shared blanket on a cold stone wall, looking over a big, tiny city. Cookies and laughter. The cold seeps into my jeans from where we sit, my fingers and nose are numb, but the laughter and our bodies huddled under the blanket are warm.
We take grainy phone photos, but we don’t mind how bad they are. They’ll help us remember, anyhow.
A comfortably quiet ride home, drowsily happy. Quiet music and streetlights through car windows.
Back home. Tea and a call with the family. The tea is warm, and so is seeing them, even if they’re pixels on a screen. They’re my pixels.
A good day.