I like the way my youngest moves while she’s listening to music she likes (and she thinks nobody’s looking)
I like a stack of books fresh from the library.
I like it when my daughters play music for me that they think I’ll like. (Mostly they’re right)
I like little shops that are run like labors of love by folks who live near me. Especially independent book shops.
I like poets who can fit surprising depths of imagery onto one page. (In other words, they keep it shorter than my short attention span.)
I like finding a new place to get non-corporate coffee that’s fresh roasted and freshly ground.
And I like the inconvenient ritual of making and drinking that coffee with my pour over contraption.
I like dragging my kids downtown to see weird stuff. Like modern art.
I like graffiti that looks like it took love and planning to create.
I like making lines on paper. I can’t draw much, but I like lines.
Cardboard, pencils, duct tape. Simple, quotidian.
Sitting, thinking. Appreciating stuff.
And, as I get older, quiet afternoons.