Lost in the Senses

When my alarm went off this morning I could feel a chill outside the covers, probably associated with the thunderstorm from last night.  I reached for some cozy pants and grabbed my car keys.  A quick grocery run was needed to fuel my yogurt-for-breakfast kick.  As I locked my door and stepped off the porch I paused for a moment.

The sun was low in the sky, at just the right angle to make everything glow a little bit orange — including the mountain tops I could just make out over the trees.  The city was quiet, some cars on the road but construction workers not-yet-arrived on my street and the bike bath momentarily free from groups of social runners.

I wrapped my arms around my chest as a slight protection from the morning chill, aware of my bundled up (in summer terms) wardrobe and my just-rolled-out-of-bed-after-sleeping-on-it-wet hair.

Feels like camping.

And I let myself be distracted for a minute, lost in my senses.  Mentally I could picture stirring up the coals of a fire, the splinteryness of firewood in my hands, warm smoke catching the wind and blowing in my face causing a few coughs.  Rummaging through supplies for pancake mix, inevitably dropping something in the dirt and comments about dirt being good for you.  Snuggled up in sweats sipping hot tea, hands wrapped around the mug for warmth while also burning my tongue in eagerness to drink.  The mental calm and quiet.

And it was lovely, knowing how all the pleasant and annoying parts of life can come together, complementing each other to form a beautiful sensory memory.

And then I got in my car to get yogurt.

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