I love rich, dark coffee cut with just the right amount of cream.
I love mountains— the dreamy greens and hazy blues. But even more, I love them rocky, wild, untethered, and snow-capped. I love when adventures go sideways because they make for great stories.
I love hotel beds. They always tuck in the sheets so tight and it makes me feel snuggly. I love how Luna greets me at the front door, like a friggen dog, every time I come home.
I love doing nothing. And movie theater popcorn. I love textures and neutrals, and how wearing purple makes my eyes look more green. I love how wearing lipstick always makes me feel like a BABE.
I love it when people think I’m funny. And when friends repeat the things I say, like echoes —laughing and rolling their eyes— because they know me well enough to know it’s so on-brand.
I love when I’m listening to Spotify and go to like a good song, only to find out I’ve already liked it.
I love driving past fields of corn and soy beans, when your eyes travel down to the ends of each perfect row.
I love candid photos with genuine smiles.
And using my library return receipt as a bookmark.
And the golden hour glow and soft-colored sunrises, when fog rests gently on fields.
I love bear hugs where your whole bodies embrace, instead of those arms-barely-over-your-shoulder-in-a-polite-gesture types that should be reserved only for strangers.
I love being able to fill up my gas tank all the way instead of $10 at a time like I did back in high school.
I love slow mornings and loosing track of time in a book, a painting, a piece of writing. I love fresh farmer’s market flowers.
I love environments where I feel safe to be my unfiltered, weird self. I also love friends who embrace and validate my anger – because it’s an emotion that has taken me so long to express.
I love deep talks about life and theology and the nature of God. I love when people are both funny and deep, confident yet nuanced. I love when people are quietly self-assured. I love open-mindedness.
I love words, and love knowing the impact of my words on others’ lives. I love when you borrow someone else’s book and get to read the notes they left in the margins, notice the things that moved them and stirred them, that felt important enough to underline.
I love that my sister and I have become closer friends as we’ve aged.
I love the first frog chirps in spring. I love lilacs. And deer, because for some reason they remind me of God. I love hand thrown pottery. I love baking. And I love licking the spoon afterwards.
I love and admire when people who’ve gone through adversity come out the better for it; when instead of growing bitter they grow even more beautiful.
I love when my presence makes others feel safe and understood. I love Romans 8:28. I love grace and hope I can be someone who gives it.
On the whole, I love my life, and love the chance to live it.
Finally, I love that I have so many things I love. And that this list could be a mile long and still not be long enough.
Inspired by Alex Dimitrov’s lovely poem here: https://aprweb.org/poems/love0
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