The exact moment when you bite into a grape, and the skin bursts and your mouth fills with juice.
The smell and feel of fresh sheets, put on your bed earlier and now just that little bit starchy and freshly laundered.
The lurch in your tummy when a boy you like (or liked) does some little thing that shows he noticed you.
The smell of the ground after it rains.
The sound of children laughing, the way it bubbles up and bubbles around, like a brook high up in the mountains.
The colours you see in an early sunset or a late sunrise, oranges and blood reds and purples and blues, like God’s gone mad with his crayolas.
A crisp breeze that whips your hair and wakes you up.
A friendly bark.
The sensation of safety and love you get from being exactly where you’re meant to be at this time.
Cosy scarves on cold days.
A nice cup of tea and a book, and a cosy old chair, after a long and arduous workday. The green of the trees preparing for spring and the yellows and whites and purples of the flowers just peeking through.
Fresh satsumas, easy to peel and delicious.
Eleven o’clock skies, dark dark blue, shot through with a hundred thousand million stars.
Cookies still warm from the oven with big chocolate chunks that melt on your tongue. A good hug from a little person or, equally brilliantly, from a friend.
A stack of letters waiting for you, or an email out of the blue.
Naps, dreams, and the hope of what’s to come.