Dina L. Relles

I wasn’t planning to post here today, but I found myself with a quiet moment—and a sudden urge to jot down the little things I love—lately and longtime, and for which I am most grateful:

first sips of a hot cup of coffee
autumn
long walks
rustic bookcases
freshly baked bread
writing
losing myself in the nostalgia of an old letter
early mornings
fresh paper
being inside while it rains
a drive through New England
being immersed in a good book
lists
ski lodges
hoodies
holding hands
yellow candles
fireplaces
wooden bridges
cobblestone
listening to music on the open road
songs that make you swell with reminiscence
shared memories
uncommon connections
late-night conversation
comfortable silences
people-watching
windows and doors
sunsets
park benches
gloaming
rural landscapes
waterfronts
words
black and white photographs
late afternoon light
love
doubt
naptimes
going out for brunch
a box of fresh crayons
common kindness
family, here and gone
friends, old and new
you, here, reading these words
you, out there, in the world

But I’m thankful, above all perhaps, for being able to be thankful. To be here, and to have the luxury to be grateful for the small things.

“The more you respect and focus on the singular and the strange, the more you become aware of the universal and infinite.” – Gail Godwin

(with warm thanks to Lindsey Mead, on whose lovely site I found these words)

Wishing you a brief pause today to love the little things.