
Perseid meteor showers
turning off all the lights except those on the Christmas tree
playing hooky to do something you don’t ordinarily have time for
uncovering an unexpected patch of wildflowers
practicing speaking French
enlarging a favorite photo
alternating between reading a novel and looking at the hilltop skyline
getting mail
the secret urge to expedite the person ahead of you through a revolving door
rain at night, if you’re safe in bed
the ability of parents to guide their small children around by the tops of their heads
unread textbooks
crazy kids
cold hands
making clarinets squeak
buying T-shirts and short-sleeve shirts on the first day of spring, and then having a blizzard on that night
feeling blue
overdue library books
the gap in the dressing room curtain that can never be completely closed
having an unfortunate knack for approaching a set of double doors and always pushing the locked one