I LOVE THE TASTE OF: the very last bite of a Snickers or Twix, my rapidly dwindling collection of Italian wines from Kim, fried chicken and pork chops courtesy of Mags, peanut butter and jelly, butter and maple syrup on a waffle, a true Southern girl’s breakfast – ham and/or bacon, scrambled eggs with cheese grits and a tall glass of orange juice, a cool glass of water right after a workout, muscadines, Lady Grey tea with a spot of milk and a spoonful of sugar, fried okra and fried green tomatoes with just a sprinklin’ of salt, my gran’s macaroni and cheese and her spaghetti, my dad’s fried fish, watermelon
I LOVE THE SIGHT OF: my mom and dad embracing after all these years, my Blue Ridges as I wind along Highway 25 just before exit #3 to Tuxedo, NC, looking down on Traveler’s Rest on the way back down HWY 25, the lake at camp during the candle lighting ceremony, driving into or away from New York City at dusk, the beach and the ocean early in the morning in the Bahamas, people greeting each other at the airport, a wraparound porch, my mom laughing uncontrollably at something I’ve just done or said, my sister’s grin each time we meet again, the English countryside, the exit for 385 Greenville after what always feels like the longest drive ever
I LOVE THE FEEL OF: freshly washed linens, a good strong hug, the sun upon my face, my hands when they’re hanging out of the car window – the way the breeze carries them up and down, a wild ride on a rollercoaster, riding a bike with no hands, my old thin Pickens track & field t-shirt, nostalgia, my skin fresh out the shower, my mother’s hands, Friday, my hands when I’m writing, cashmere, turtleneck sweaters, my sweatshirt blanket, the end of the workout, stretching in the bed first thing in the morning, napping on a Sunday afternoon, excitement you get when you’re genuinely fond of someone
I LOVE THE SMELL OF: food on the grill, my dad’s scent on his letters, freshly cut watermelon, Calvin Klein perfumes, one’s new car, rubber cement, dryer sheets, baby oil, fresh air, campfires, Earl Grey tea, bbq, the hallways of Dacusville Elementary, books, clean babies, honeysuckle, freshly cut grass and flowers, crayons, Elmer’s glue, mist from the ocean when you’re just miles from the beach
I LOVE THE SOUND OF: a choir – whether hushed or exalted, typing on my laptop, spontaneous laughter, the wind rustling through the trees, camp folk singin’ camp songs, warm, tender tones of voice (i.e., amos lee, k.d. lang, bonnie raitt, judy garland and sam cooke), raspy cracklin’ soul voices (i.e., otis redding, ray lamontagne), the opening bars of dmb’s crush & #41, a saxophone wailing when it puts you in the mind of a smoky, lowly-lit room (listen to King Curtis’s “All the Way” or my personal favorite, “Soul Serenade”), my parents’ voices, comedians when they laugh at themselves, my voice when I’m actually being serious, an old friend’s hello, the cello, clapping ON beat, food in a fryin’ pan sizzlin’, silence – right after I smack the shit out of my alarm