This Favorite Feeling

The waking up at 8am to clean sheets. It is the sitting back down, the standing back up to my favorite songs. That Jamaican Red Rooibos tea. It is the phone call with my mom and my brother yelling obscenities in the background. It is my father's hilarious text messages. It is the "What are you doing?" "Come over". And also that one time we rode out bikes in the dead of night through obscure paths. It was all in the letting go on the handlebars. It is the subtly disgusting snapchats between friends. The going home after a long night. The rain puttering on outside the window. The little light they catch and ricochet. Swimming on a hot day and feeling like a child. It is board games and shits and giggles. Making coffee in the mornings. Getting to sit down on a porch right before the rest of the world is up. The slow grin that creeps when you're understood. It is sunsets after dessert. Hazelnut mousse cakes. The sound of pigeons in the afternoons. It is the windows open, the curtains flying. The running out the door without fishing for a jacket. It is staring at your hands. Making time for you. Making time for myself. It is the smell of new books. It is grass between my toes. The sand between my nails. The sun burning my back, the tan lines right after. It is empty coffee shops. It is the weariness after a run. My favorite Damien Rice song. The sound of a cat's rumble. Whole days of nothing, entire nights of everything. Stopping to smell the roses. Farmer's Markets. It is the waiting for that signal. It is the possibility of airports. Those empty dance floors to be occupied. It is the staring at the stars on clear nights. It is the fireflies nearby. Pockets of shade. It is hand through hair. The closing of your eyes. Demure smiles exchanged. The "fuck it" before we smile for real.