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A Perfect Little Moment

You ever have those moments where everything is just kind of perfect and you wish you could bottle it all up to relive over and over?

It’s the simple things for me. I came home from work and it was absolutely gorgeous outside: sixty-five degrees and sunny with a light breeze. I grabbed a lawn chair and sat outside on our porch (I use the term loosely; it’s basically a concrete slab) with a book, my iPod and a mug of tea.

And everything just worked out.

I found an excellently comfortable position to sit in, balancing my feet against a post and leaning back in my chair. My tea was warm and soothing while birds flitted nearby, chirping back and forth, enjoying the weather in their own right. Gavin Creel’s Quiet EP hummed softly in my ears, the acoustic ballads the perfect soundscape for the gradually darkening sky. The air smelled crisp and fresh, despite it being late February. I read bits of Dan Chaon’s Await Your Reply off and on (when I wasn’t occupied by watching squirrels, birds and the neighbor’s dog) and I happened to be reading a section where a main character waxes nostalgic on Cleveland, his childhood home, namedropping locations near and dear to my heart. Children a few houses over were playing in the yard, shouting happily and occasionally crying for a few brief seconds. I got lost in thought tangents, thinking about birdsong, science and beauty. The air started to cool and rain clouds began to move in just as the EP ended and I reached a stopping point in my book. I went inside and couldn’t stop smiling.

It just seemed like the world burned brighter for that little half-hour. All at once, it was wistful, nostalgic, honest, refreshing, pensive, amusing, beautiful…

…and perfect.

"Lock up your libraries if you like, but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind."

-Virginia Woolf, "A Room of One's Own"




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