here it is: contentment, sitting heavily at the root of my spine, all nestled in my stomach, reaching down to my toes and up through the ends of my curling hair. i slept well and warmly last night, and he made exorbitantly good french toast this morning. my drive back was fast and the wind on my skin perfect. the clouds are low, the birds circling, my muscles tired and thirst quenched. i'm more than halfway done with the ten-foot scarf i'm crocheting, and the yarn feels soft and full in my hands. the cat rubs against my legs. there is dirt under my fingernails and seeds in the earth, old sweat on my skin and tea steeping. the light through the blinds this morning was grey and pale and wavering, like a world underwater, and i stretched my calves and smiled as i woke. i walked barefoot through the grocery store and felt the cold tile beneath my feet, ate blueberries slowly out of their plastic box, felt coffee running all the way through me. hot water on my skin as we washed the dishes, steam rising up out of the sink. clean laundry piled on my bed. earrings that jingle against my neck. mint-flavored chapstick. believing once again, today, that happiness is inevitable and omnipresent if you only look close enough to see it.