Clean, fresh sheets.
Salt water.
Noons during summertime, with the shutters half closed, the curtain dancing with the wind, and the sound of cicadas.
Cafes that have all-day breakfast.
New books.
Old books.
Street art.
Handmade gifts.
The warmth of an animal.
The smell of a baby.
Big, wide windows.
Big, old trees.
Paws.
Open horizon, for always putting our problems in perspective.
Tanned skin. The kind of tan you get after you have read at least half a dozen books under the sun.
Wooden floors.
Wooden houses.
Driving with the windows down and the wind on your face.
Naps.
Tree leaves on the ground.
Open-air cinemas.
The sound of a typewriter.
Frosting.
Pretty dresses.
Messy hair.
Stripes.
Making lists.
Grapes.
Figs in late August.
Summer rain.
Beginnings.
Sleeping under the stars.
Waking up under the sky.
Polaroids.
Pineapple for breakfast.
Watermelon and feta dor dinner.
Sand.
Leather suitcases.
Braided hair.
Sleeping with the windows open.
Deep, meaningful, passionate conversations.
Hammocks.
Rocking chairs.
Owls.
Whales.
Nutcracker soldiers.
Harry Potter.
Vintage globes.
Old maps.
Ella.