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tiny feelings

Thursday, June 8, 2017

in practice of curating gratitude, i sat down and wrote out all the smaller joys of my life

what i’m wearing: jody bell bell sleeve front scoop dress & jody bell flame leather belt

When someone compliments you on a quietly consistent insecurity but after their words, it momentarily, entirely dissolves. When you’re waiting for a friend and open the buzzing doorbell to the familiar smell of her perfume. That first bleary eyed sip of coffee in the morning. a similar sip but of an icy wine at dusk across from a friend at sunset on friday night, stress melts away with the sun and that firt moment feels infinite and poignant in a way that can’t be stored away. When a too tight dress doesn’t bulge anywhere, except your eyes because it’s unbelieveable how un-fat you look; I call this a mirror victory. When a man, a very faraway man in another country texts you after days of self-inflicted silence, your emotional hope rises again and spills like rain. The smell of bread crisping in the toaster while you’re still two rooms away in bed. And the days, those weekend days, soaked in rays, drenched in laughs, marinated from the week’s monotony; the preogative to simply let live… these days might end disastrously but so often the good times stir a havoc quite unimaginable even after it’s passed. The way a summer peach from the fridge drips down your chin and into the sink. Tired feet dangling in the crisp blue of a pool. When he says something you want to remember but you know you won’t because there’s been too much wine and he’s handsome enough you’ll forget. Unravelling your hair from it’s bedtime bun and smelling last night’s shampoo. The way men unconsciously straighten their backs as you breeze past in your best outfit. The burning pride of sore muscles worked too hard; that delicious sense of feeling what exists beneath your skin. That moment when you finish the last page of a book and it’s left dangling in your hand as you sit trapped in awe. When you see an old friend and instantly, you’re 22 again drinking cheap wine from plastic cups by the Seine. The way you’re mother answers the phone, the way it feels like a hug, in her comforting familiar tone. Those first few appreciative glances at your feet fresh from a pedicure. The smell of a sweater someone special left behind. The bliss of an abandoned beach as the storm fades away. When you wake up to realize your day is stripped of a schedule; the sheer flexibility of your day falling into another hour of sleep. The warmth of a dog curled up in your lap as you stretch out on the sofa alone. When your shoes match your bag and for once it doesn’t matter that your hair is a mess. Hauling an entire watermelon home, sticking a spoon in and calling it lunch. The tiny thrill of a new candle and the hesitation to light it. The way a woman’s hair glides as she walks. The sight of a man’s bulging bicep as he picks up his child. A new stack of books. A freshly stocked fridge. Cake for breakfast with litres of coffee on an empty terrace at a cafe. The memories from years ago that still glow, the ones you can pull up and wrap around you when life is slow. All these tiny yet collectively monumental feelings, often overlooked as nothing when really, they are everything.


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