Running Full

sascha brooke

metaphors in the mundane

the last time I wrote a list of my favorite things, I must say it was a bit more adventurous. while my strenuous adventures have halted for a couple of years, I’ve learned to appreciate every day for the fresh adventure that it gifts me. here are the things that make my eyes light up like a child on christmas:

  • the crinkle of a fresh sheet of notebook paper as you pull it out of your binder, crisp for the acquisition of knowledge
  • the punctuality of semicolons; the vague nature with which most understand how to use them
  • chewing a fresh stick of gum and experiencing the burst of flavor
  • the breeze kissing the back of your neck as you coast down the back roads with the windows down
  • the split second your stomach flips when you look down from a high building 
  • the moment the hot water hits your back when you step into the shower
  • the second that you regain focus after getting lost in a daydream, the reality of reality
  • the sound of my voice filling the evening air as I cruise down the road, volume up on my favorite songs 
  • swallowing warm soup, lentils steaming. I always eat cold lentil soup out of a can for lunch because I’m typically too busy to warm it up… point is warm soup is a delicacy. I also keep an “emergency soup” in my car, a safety net for spontaneous decisions in which I deviate from my plans and find myself needing something to eat
  • the ricochet of the guitar strings after I flick them with a pick
  • the satisfaction of placing a difficult test into the finished pile
  • the smile that breaks out when I tell people “I really appreciate it” instead of just “thank you”
  • nights where the moonlight is so vibrant that you can see your footsteps and trace the horizon
  • the weight of a hearty quilt pressing your body into the bed, reassuring you that you are safe and accompanied
  • the salty taste of tears as they roll into the crease of your lips, grounding you in reality as your head spins with worry of the future
  • nights alone in the back of my SUV, tucked into a sleeping bag as I trace the constellations and use the flecks of light to reflect on life, acknowledging the significance of our universal insignificance
  • the inconspicuous nature of sweatpants, allowing your legs to go incognito
  • the sheep I count at night, wooly and full of energy
  • rings that hug your fingers, keeping them clothed
  • the pressure of the water in the pool, keeping you afloat as you blow bubbles into its depths, arms churning
  • the vacancy of a small town at night, unfamiliar and ghost-like
  • odd friendships, the kind that society tells you should not exist, but do
  • the snoring of my cat in the middle of the night, warm body tucked against my foot
  • breathless I love you’s, because life is short and it’s impossible to hold back the swelling of your heart 
  • the bubbling of a new song in your soul when you hear the chords for the first time
  • the dulled nature of moon, sharing the sky simultaneously with the sun 
  • suds of a soap bar creating a froth over your skin in the shower
  • waking before your usual time and experiencing the novelty of the silence
  • individual blades of grass, not just the sheet of green
  • the fragility of tomorrow, keeping us accountable for today
  • the subconscious influence of family’s role in developing your character
  • the utterly astounding revelations of truth and guidance in the gospel
  • different types of paper, graph for following the rules and blank for letting your creativity run wild 
  • breath. literally woah we’re alive
  • the gratitude that accompanies the sorrow of a goodbye
  • the valleys in between the ridges of your knuckles, undeniably existing for the placement of another’s hand
  • the rush of a spontaneous act; the feeling of being an active director of your life, not identified by the stream of society
  • finally getting a wave back from a stranger following an entire car ride waving at people on the side of the road and in passing vehicles, you and your best friend turning the overlooked aspects of life into a source of joy while making someone feel loved
  • the way that color seeps from loose leaf tea in the kettle (well technically we don’t have a kettle so it’s just a little pot, slightly rusted corners from years of encompassing morning oatmeal or blackberry tea)
  • the jagged edges of stamps, officiating less-than-official letters from a girl who couldn’t consolidate her thoughts if the world depended on it

this list could continue, because I am that girl who couldn’t consolidate her thoughts if the world depended on it, but I believe I have gotten my message across. even here in quarantine, even when you don’t feel as though you are able to embark on ambitious adventures, there is still so, so much to live for. all for now, sasch

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