What Is Still Good
Here I sit, blanket on lap, coffee in mug, head in a vice after days of grinding my teeth, and think to myself that the world needs to focus on more good. There is no point in a focus on the bad, the ugly, the terrible, as long as we are cognizant of its presence. Instead, there is a need now to escape the realm of intrusive thoughts that bring anxiety to the most calm of people. So, as is my favorite thing to do in all circumstances, I list the good.
Imagining the life of your favorite characters after the book ends.
Tiny humans reaching out for your hand, your arms, your hug out of sheer desire for respect and love.
Sounds of rain against windows and thunder crashing as sleep comes near.
New pencils against new notebook paper.
Pictures of your grandparents as young people. They were madly in love and freckled and swept and so beautiful.
The way the world looks and feels from inside a blanket fort you built.
The Beach Boys. Particularly ‘God Only Knows’ and the thought of Hugh Grant discussing love as the melody slowly tapers off into bliss.
Submerging yourself underwater - that initial dive when you go from dry to soaked.
Coffee crashing into your mug.
Diners on hazy, lazy, Sunday mornings and dizzy, crazed, electric Saturday nights.
Ferris wheels that never get stuck.
Birthday candles stuck in something other than cake.
Blockbuster on a Friday night when it was your turn to pick the movie.
A perfectly poured whiskey ginger.
Slow, gentle, curves in roads that let you pick up speed ever so slightly.
Warm lounge clothes after a day at the beach or the pool. That end of day vacation feeling when you’ve spent your moments in the sun and water and take a shower and collapse into shorts and a sweatshirt to eat pizza with your family as the day becomes night.
Christmas lights inside in July.
Getting off work on Friday and knowing you’ll get to go see someone special.
Spinning the wheel of a cassette with a pencil and watching the tape get tighter.
Listening to an older person tell you about a moment in history you’ve only ever read about.
When someone made you a CD. The sharpie title written in bubble lettering from your best friend or a blur of letters from your crush. It was probably all Fall Out Boy and AFI and it was perfect.
Laying down after standing all day.
Record store shopping with someone who would never judge your taste in music.
The food delivery man arriving at your door. The waitress turning the corner with the tray for your table. The speaker at Portillo’s calling out your order number.
Rearranging the furniture in your room and sleeping in a new spot.
The laughter that occurs during and after road trips; especially during, when you’re off the highway and the windows are down, and the chips are all gone.
A perfect hot dog at a baseball game.
Playing in the playground after school on a Friday when the weather is absolutely perfect.
Champagne and cake.
Falling asleep the night before your birthday when the possibility of celebration fills every molecule in your body with a feeling that you are special.
