I wrote a poem this morning. Before that, I made pancakes from scratch. I poured warm strawberry sauce over them — my mom’s homemade — and organic maple syrup. There were roses on the table. It was quiet, and the kitchen was flooded with light.
While I cooked, I called a family friend. Then I called B. We talked about poetry and biology and logic, and connecting, people connecting. Yes.
Later I played a video of a neuroscientist discussing mirror nerves, which can make you feel pain in your anesthetized arm if you just watch someone else getting pinched in the arm. My favorite song is now playing. I never get tired of it. Every time it plays, I get lost in it, and I don’t even understand the lyrics. If I could get huge, clear speakers and play so loud that you can’t even hear yourself breathing … well, I would.
I am thankful for these small moments.